
J 



THE 

YOUTH'S BOOK 

* 'ft v * ~ » 

ON 

NATURAL THEOLOGY; 

ILLUSTRATED 

IN FAMILIAR DIALOGUES, 

WITH 

NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 
BY REV. T. H. GALLAUDET, 

LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE AMERICAN ASYLUM FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB 



Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou made therr 
all.— Psalm 104 : 24 



PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU -STREET, NEW YORK. 



Entcicd According to the Act of Congress, in the year 1S32, by Thomas 
H. GallauDet, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Connecticut. 

Right ol publishing transferred to the American Tract g ^eisty. 



Afmy »nd Na T y Glut 
May 27, I92t 



CONTENTS. 



Preface, . . 5 

Address to young readers, 9 

DIALOGUE L Explanation of skill, contrivance, and de- 
sign — The nautilus and steamboat, 13 

II. God the great designer and contriver — How does God 
show himself to us ? 27 

III. The pencil-case — The arm and hand — A description of 
the bones and joints of the arm — Atheists — Chance, 39 

IV. Joint at the shoulder — Muscles and tendons — Joint at 
the elbow, 52 

V. Radius —Ulna — B utton-head — Joint-oil — Gristle — Liga- 
ment — Wisdom and goodness of God, 65 

VI. God does not design and contrive as we do — The skill of 
God explained — the wrist and hand, 78 

VII. What makes the bones move, or the joints — The mus- 
cles — The tendons — Contraction of the muscles, . . 92 

VIII. Antagonist muscles — The nerves — Nerves of expres- 
sion in the human countenance — Their use — A sound mus- 
cle, . . >: . .... . , . . . . . . 107 

IX. Another sound muscle — The eyelid — Shedding tears — 
Parts of the body keep on going right— Nerves of the face — 
Expressions of the countenance compared with a paint- 
ing, 120 

X. More on the expression of the countenance — Goodness 
and wisdom of God — Habits of expression, . . . 137 

XI. The elephant — The eye of a dragon-fly — The trunk of 
an elephant — Pressure of the air, . 143 

XII. Mouth of animals — Particular design in forming them — 
Woodpecker — Crossbill — Bills of ducks and geese — Oyster- 
catcher — Choetodon — Chance — Atheism, . .163 



4 CONTENTS. 

XIII. The electrical eel — Lightning — Electricity — Dr. Frank- 
lin, 179 

XIV. Sting of the bee — Mouths of insects— Moths and butter- 
flies — Their tongues — The pump — The eggs of the butter- 
fly — Caterpillar — Chrysalis — Butterfly — The resurrec- 
tion, 191 

XV. How different insects deposit their eggs — The butterfly — 
The moth — The gad-fly — Ants — The queen-ant — The work- 
ers — The grubs — The pupae — The cocoon — Birds' nests — 
Beehives, . 207 

XVI. Instincts — Sprouting of seed — Plant called the fly- 
trap — Explanation of what instinct is — Design, wisdom, 
and goodness of God — Reason distinguished from in- 
stinct, 221 

XVII. Proportion a proof of design — Proportion between 
our bodies and the things around us — Proportion between 
animals and plants — Proportion between animals and their 
habitations — A statue — St. Peter's church — God the great 
statuary — God the great architect, 237 

XVIII. The air and lungs — The heart, arteries, and veins 
adapted to each other — The atmosphere — Hearing — The* 
ear — Its parts — Hearing explained — The circulation of the 
blood — Adaptation a proof of design — The air — Light ex- 
plained — The air adapted to the eye — Light — Light adapt- 
ed to the eye — Wonderful power, wisdom, and goodness of 
God, 248 

Conclusion. Address to the conscience of youth, . .263 



PREFACE 



Some may deem it almost unnecessary to go 
intc an argument with children and youth, to 
prove to them that there is a God : a truth 
which seems too often to be taken for granted, 
not only in the first stages, but through the 
whole course of their religious instruction — 
how wisely, may admit of very serious doubts. 

It is a truth on which all the doctrines and 
precept^ of religion rest ; and just in propor- 
tion as the belief of it is weak, or obscure, will 
all the other truths of religion fail to have 
their full effect upon the heart and the life. 

This, like other truths, is founded on evidence. 
The more complete therefore, and satisfactory, 
this evidence is, the more thoroughly it is con- 
sidered and examined, the more it is made to 
form a part of the customary trains of thought 
and feeling; and the more distinct and vivid 



6 



PREFACE. 



the conceptions are which, it produces in the 
mind, the more uniform and operative will 
be the belief of the truth which this evidence 
is intended to establish. 

This we find to be the case, even with re- 
gard to those truths which are the most com- 
mon, and which receive the uniform assent of 
every intelligent mind. 

For the practical belief of truth is very much 
strengthened by a knowledge of the nature and 
certainty of its evidence, and by the habit of 
frequently recurring to this evidence. 

After attending to the various and interest- 
ing and overwhelming proofs of design, con- 
trivance, and skill, in all that we see within us 
and around us, who can fail to have the exist- 
ence and agency of God impressed upon his 
understanding and heart with new freshness 
and force. 

Let these proofs form a part of the early 
associations of thought and feeling among chil- 
dren and youth, and, from the well-known laws 
of the human mind, the important truth which 
they establish will so blend itself with the 
habitudes of the soul, that God will be seen in 



PREFACE. 



7 



all his works, and his presence felt in the ex- 
hibitions which he is continually making to us, 
of his power, wisdom, and goodness. 

Besides, atheism, theoretical and practical, 
is on the alert to diffuse its baleful influence. 
Already, in our own country, we have seen it 
attempting to make proselytes. Debating so- 
cieties, public lectures, books, tracts, and news- 
papers, have been the instruments employed 
for its propagation. What parent can tell 
how soon his child may be exposed to this aw- 
ful delusion ? Who that knows the wayward- 
ness of the human heart, the force of tempta- 
tion, the insidious allurements of vice, the 
gradual encroachment which sneers and ridi- 
cule on. the one hand, and sceptical queries and 
doubts on the other, often make upon the con- 
science, especially when this conscience seeks 
relief from the wounds that guilt has inflicted 
upon it — who that considers these things, can 
fail to tremble often at the exposure of our 
youth to this contaminating influence of infi- 
delity and atheism ? 

It has already, in not a few instances, with- 
ered and blasted the fondest hopes of the anx- 



8 



PREFACE. 



ious father and mother. If it does not always 
destroy, it may often paralyze religious be- 
lief. 

And if the faith of the youth is secure 
against its attacks, still, how much good often 
this very faith may do in rescuing others. If 
it is thoroughly furnished with evidence and 
arguments and proofs, its triumphs, both in pri- 
vate and in public, may save a companion from 
ruin, and hasten the downfall -of this bitter 
enemy of God and man. 

For these reasons, the author cannot but 
think that the evidences of the existence of 
God are quite too much overlooked in the 
early religious education of children and youth. 
He could wish, for one, that they might form a 
part of the regular course of instruction in 
Sabbath-schools, and of the religious reading 
in families. The subject may be made deeply 
interesting. Many of the facts connected with 
it are as really entertaining as most of the in- 
cidents in the books of religious fiction, with 
which children have been so extensively sup- 
plied. They are vastly more instructive; and 
*fcend, too, to form a taste for useful knowledge, 



PREFACE. 



9 



which if confirmed into a habit, is of unspeaka- 
ble value. 

The author will only add, that having in- 
tended what he has written for quite young 
persons, he has gone into a minuteness of anal- 
ysis, and a specification of details which his 
own experience has fully convinced him is the 
only sure mode of conveying distinct ideus to 
those whose powers of generalizing are as yet 
but very imperfectly cultivated and developed. 



TO MY YOUNG READERS. 

I dare say, many of you who are not more 
than eight or ten years of age, will be able to 
understand this book ; particularly, if you are 
very attentive in reading it, and if you always 
ask some older person to explain to you a few 
things which at first may be difficult to be un- 
derstood. 

Those who are a few years older will, I think, 
find no difficulty at all in understanding it. 

You may not, however, know exactly the 
meaning of the term Natural Theology , which 



10 



PREFACE. 



forms a part of the title of the book. I will 
endeavor to explain it to you. 

Theology is an English word, made by pat- 
ting two Greek words together, with a little 
alteration. Theo, comes from the Greek word 
Theos, which means God; and logy, from the 
Greek word logos, which means a discourse, or 
speaking, or teaching about any thing. 

All that is known about God — arranged in 
order, so that it can be taught clearly and dis- 
tinctly — is called Theology. 

In the Bible, God has made known to men 
a great deal about himself which they did not 
know before, and which they could not have 
learned in any other way ; or, what means the 
same thing, he^ has revealed the knowledge of 
himself to them in the Bible. 

The Bible is a revelation from God; and 
from what it teaches us about him, we gain 
that knowledge which, when arranged in order, 
so that it can be taught clearly and distinctly, 
is called revealed theology. 

Natural theology is not learned from the 
Bible. It is all that can be known about God, 
merely by examining the beings and things 



PREFACE. 



11 



which he has made, without the aid of revealed 
theology. 

The beings and things which God has made 
and caused to be, or live and grow, are called 
natural, to distinguish them from the things 
that men make. 

The things that men make are called works 
of art ; but all that God has made we call the 
works of nature. By examining and studying 
the works of nature, we can see that there 
must be a God, who made and preserves all 
beings and things; and we can learn many 
things about him, which will show us his great 
power and wisdom and goodness. 

All the knowledge which we can thus gain 
about God, is called natural theology ; and it 
is this knowledge, my young friends, which I 
wish in some degree to give you in this book 
that I have written for you. I hope you will 
be so -much interested in gaining this know- 
ledge, that you will seek for more of it as you 
grow older, in larger books which have been 
written on the same subject, but which it 
might now be difficult for you to understand. 

I have written the book in dialogues, be- 



PREFACE. 



tween a lady whom I call Mrs. Stanhope, and 
her son Robert. If any of you have read the 
Child's Book on the Soul, it is the same Robert 
who is mentioned there, only in this book he 
is supposed to be a few years older. 

That you may all make great improvement 
in useful knowledge, and especially in the 
knowledge of God and of your duty, and learn 
both to be good and to do good, is the sincere 
wish of 

Your friend, 

THE AUTHOR. 



THE 



YOUTH'S BOOK 

ON 

NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



DIALOGUE I. 

Mother. Did you ever make any thing, 
Robert? 

Robert. I made a kite once, mother, and it 
flew very well. Uncle John showed me how 
to make it. 

M. Out of what did you make it ? 

R. Out of paper and sticks and thread. 

M. How did you put them together ? 

R. With some paste ; and then I let the kite 
dry in the sun, and put the tail on, and fixed 
the twine to it, and it was all ready to fly. 

M. How long did it take you to make it ? 

R. I should think almost two hours, mother. 
I spoiled one or two before I got right. I 



14 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

think I could make one now a good deal 
quicker. 

M. Do you remember that beautiful large 
kite which the boys raised in front of the 
school-house, last spring? 




E. Yes, it was as tall as a man. It took 
several boys to hold it, when it was high up in 
the air. 

M. Do you know who made it? 
R. Some one of the boys, I suppose, mother ; 
but I do not know "which. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. t§ 

M. Are you sure that one of the boys 
made it ? 

R. I think so ; but perhaps some man made 
it, it was so large and strong. 

M. Are you sure that any body made it ? 

R. Yes, mother, just as sure as I am that I 
made the little kite that we were talking about. 
Somebody must have cut the paper, and cut 
out the sticks right and tied them together, 
and put the thread round, and pasted the paper, 
and fixed on the tail, or the kite never would 
have been made. 

M. Yes, my son, and the tail must have been 
made just long and heavy enough, or the kite 
would not have flown. 

R. I remember, mother, I made the tail to 
my kite too short first, and as soon as it got a 
little way up into the air, it began to go round 
and round and fell down to the ground. It 
would not fly at all until I made the tail 
longer. 

M. I suppose, Robert, that some boys have 
made kites so often that they can make a very 
good kite at once, without any mistake. 

R. Yes, mother, I am pretty sure that I 
could. 



16 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. If you could, my son, and make it quick, 
and exactly right, so that it would fly very well, 
you would be said to be skilful in making a 
kite ; and as it flew finely in the air, it would 
show your skill in making it. 

R. Mother, it takes most skill to fix the 
tail. 

M. I suppose so. And you have to think 
beforehand, do you not, of what shape you will 
make the kite ; and then how much paper it 
will take, and how many sticks there must be, 
and how you will tie them together so as to 
make the kite of just the shape and size that 
you want ? 

R. Oh yes, mother, I have to think all 
about that ; for you know we can make kites 
of many different sizes and shapes. I should 
have to think a great deal beforehand how to 
make a kite like that tall one which the boys 
had. 

M. Yes ; and perhaps you would have to get 
your uncle John to think for you. 

R. I think I should, mother. 

M. Well, if your uncle John should think 
beforehand how to make the kite, and tell you 
how to go to work, and do exactly every thing 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 17 

that ought to be done, he would contrive the 
kite. When it was done, it would show your 
skill in making it, and it would show Ms con- 
trivance in thinking beforehand how it should 
be made. 

R. Mother, I can contrive a little kite. Will 
Y ou let me make one this afternoon ? 

M. Yes, after you have said your lessons. 
What will you make the kite for? 

R. I will make it to^y, mother. What else 
should I make it for? You do not think I 
would make a kite just to look at. 

M. I did not know, Robert, but you would 
make one to show me that you could contrive a 
kite, and that you had skill to make one. 

R. But how could I show that, mother, if 
the kite would not fly well? No; I should 
make the kite on purpose to fly. And, indeed, 
I was not thinking at all about making it to 
show you my contrivance or skill. 

M. Your purpose or design, then, in making 
the kite, would be that it might fly well. What 
was your design in making that little boat the 
other day ? What did you make it for ? 

R. My design was, that it might swim in the 
small pond back of the garden. 

Nat Theology 2 



18 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. Did you make it as you do a kite ? 

R. Oh no, mother ; you know a boat swims 
in water, but a kite flies in the air ? 

M. Which did you have to contrive most 
about in making, the boat or the kite ? 

R. I think the kite, mother, for the tail 
troubled me a good deal before I got it exactly 
right. 

M. What if you should get your uncle John 
to make a boat large enough to carry you ; and 
then fasten the string of the kite to it when it 
was high up in the air, and so the kite draw 
you in the boat quite across the pond. How 
prettily you would sail. 

R. Yes, mother. But the kite would have 
to be a very large one, and uncle John would 
have to think a long time to contrive it, and to 
be very skilful in fixing it all right, so as to 
make the boat go. 

M. There is a little fish which is a great 
deal more curious than such a boat and kite 
would be. 

R. Do tell me about it, mother. What is it 
called ? 

M. It is called a nautilus. Nautilus is a 
word that used to be spoken by a people who 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



19 



spoke very differently from us, a great many 
years ago, and it means a sailor. 

"R. Why, does this little fish sail in a boat? 

M. Yes, my son; and it lives in the same 
boat in which it swims and sails. 

R. What is the boat made of? 

M. The boat is a thin shell, round and hol- 
low ; it is as thin as paper and very light, so 
that it will float on the top of the water, just 
as your little boat does. The shell is a part of 
the fish, and inside of the shell is the living 
part, soft and slimy like a snail. It is a good 
deal softer than the inside and living part of 
an oyster.- 

When this little fish wishes to sail, it raises 
up two short arms which it has, and between 
these arms there is something stretched, very 
thin, like a web, which the wind blows, and so 
away it sails on the top of the water. 

It has also two other arms, which it lets down 
into the water on each side of the shell, and it 
paddles with them, and makes itself go along- 
faster, and turns itself with them and goes one 
way or another as it chooses. 

You know if you fill your little boat with 
water it will sink. So, when the nautilus, 



20 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



about which I have been telling you, wishes to 
go down into the deep water, it first draws in 
its two arms that have the sail between them, 
and the other two that it paddles with. Then 
it has a way of drawing in the water and fill- 
ing all the inside of the shell, which makes it 
so heavy that it sinks away down to the bot- 
tom, like a stone. 

When it wishes to rise again, it throws out 
the water through the little holes of which its 
arms are full, and makes itself light, and soon 
it rises, and keeps rising till it reaches the top 
of the water. 

When the weather is pleasant and the water 
smooth, the people that are in the ships on the 
great ocean, often see a great many of these 
little shell-fish, or sailors in their boats, with 
their sails up, and sailing all about, as happy 
as can be. But if the wind blows hard, or any 
thing disturbs them, they take in their sails, 
and draw in their arms, and fill themselves 
with w^ater, and away they go down into the 
deep ocean, and are not seen again for some 
time. 

R. Mother, I never heard of such a curious 
thing before. It is, indeed, a great deal more 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



•21 



curious than a boat would be, large enough to 
carry me, with a kite fixed to it, so that I could 
sail across the pond. How large is the nautilus ? 

M. A gentleman told me, who had seen one, 
that it was about as large as a bowl which he 
could hold in his two hands. But it was not 
shaped like a bowl. 

Here is a picture of one as it appears .when 
it is sailing. 




R. Oh, I wish I had a little nautilus, mother. 

M. Suppose you ask your uncle John to make 
you one ; he knows how to make a great many 
curious things. 



22 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



E. He could not make one, mother. He 
would not know what to make the shell of. 

M. Suppose somebody should give him the 
shell of a nautilus, could he not make the other 
parts, and put them inside of it ? 

R. Perhaps he might make something like 
the sail, mother ; but how could he make the 
two little arms that carry the sail, and the two 
arms that paddle, and make them stretch them- 
selves out, and draw themselves in ? Besides, 
the little nautilus is alive. Uncle John, if he 
were to make something almost exactly like 
the nautilus, could not make it live, so as to 
move itself about, and go down under the wa- 
ter, and rise up again, just as it chooses. 

M. Suppose your uncle John had never seen 
a nautilus, or heard about one, and should make 
something almost exactly like one ; and fix 
some little wheels inside, like those inside of a 
watch, and have a spring to make the wheels 
go ; and then wind it up with a key, and put 
it on the water ; and it should raise up its sail, 
and work with its paddles, and sail away for 
some time, a good deal as a nautilus does. 
Would you not wonder at your uncle John's 
contrivance, and at his skill too ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. '23 

R. I should, indeed, mother. But do you 
suppose that any body has contrivance and skill 
enough to make such a little nautilus ? 

M. When you were in the steamboat, Robert, 
you were in something like a great nautilus. 
Do you not remember how many, many wheels 
there were, and iron things that moved up and 
down, and many different ways ? I showed you 
the wooden wheels, like paddles, on each side 
of the boat, going round and round in the wa- 
ter, and told y ou that it was the other wheels 
that made them go, and move the boat along. 
It must have taken a great deal of contrivance 
and skill to make a steamboat ; and perhaps 
the man that contrived the steamboat, might 
also contrive a little nautilus, with wheels in- 
side of it, to sail on the water. 

R. You have forgotten, mother, that the 
steamboat did not hoist any sail up, as the 
nautilus does. I think that part of the nauti- 
lus will be very difficult to contrive. And 
then I do not believe any body could have con- 
trivance and skill enough to make it take in its 
sail and its arms, and fill itself with water, 
and go down to the bottom, and afterwards 
come up again. 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



It would puzzle uncle John, and every body 
else, even the man that contrived the steam- 
boat, to do that. 

M. Well, I think it would, Robert. And for 
any body to make a live nautilus, you know 
that would be impossible. 

R. Yes, mother ; and I am astonished at the 
wonderful contrivance and skill which we see 
in the nautilus. 

M. So am I, my son. The more I think of 
it, the more I wonder at it. If you should live 
a thousand years, arid study ever so much, and 
make thousands and thousands of curious things, 
you never would have contrivance and skill 
enough to make any thing so wonderful as a 
live nautilus. 

R. Mother, nobody can make a live thing 
that will move of itself. 

M. That is true, Robert. But it is almost 
time for us to end our conversation. I wish, 
however, to ask you first one or two questions. 
You said that you would make a little kite on 
purpose to fly, and I told you that it would be 
your design, in making it, to have it fly. If you 
had seen a nautilus out of the water, without 
ever having seen it before, or heard any thing 



ON NATURAL THE OLOG- Y. ^5 

about it, do you think you could tell what its 
different parts were designed for ? 

R. I think I could, mother. The shell would 
look so like a little boat, and there would be 
something so like a sail, and the two little pad- 
dles on each side, that I am sure I should think 
it was to go and move on the water. I should 
know it would not be to fly in the air, or to 
crawl on the ground. 

M. And if you should see it hoist up its little 
sail, and put out and move its little arms like 
paddles, you would feel quite certain that the 
design was, that it should sail about on the top 
of the water, would you not ? 

R. I should, mother. 

M. "Well, you see, my son, not only that there 
is wonderful contrivance and skill in the dif- 
ferent parts of the nautilus, but a wonderful 
design too in putting these parts together, 
and having them act upon each other just as 
they do. 

If the nautilus had not a way of throwing 
out the water and rising to the top, it could not 
sail on the top of the water, and there would 
be no use in having any of its parts so as to 
help it to sail. 



26 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



If the shell were not thin and round and hol- 
low it could not float, even after it rises to the 
top of the water. 

There would be no use in its raising up its 
arms, and stretching them out, if there were 
not a thin, web-like something between them, 
as a sail for the wind to blow against. 

And it would do but little good to hoist its 
sail, and be blown about, if it could not guide 
itself by the two little paddles, and so deter- 
mine which way to go. 

And it would not be best for it to come up to 
the top of the water, and sail about, if it could 
not make itself sink, and go down again, when 
there is danger. 

You see what a wonderful thing the nau- 
tilus is. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y 



27 



DIALOGUE II. 

Robert. I have thought a good deal, moth- 
er, about the nautilus. I want to see one very 
much. 

Mother. If you should ever go on the ocean 
in a ship, when you grow up to be a man, you 
will probably see many of them. 

R. But there are some things which you see 
every day which are as curious as the nau- 
tilus is. 

R. Mother, a chicken is a curious little 
animal. 

M. Yes, my son ; and if you could look inside 
of a chicken, you would find a great many parts 
quite as curious as the sail and paddles of the 
nautilus. 

And you would see as much wonderful design 
in the way in which these parts are put together, 
and what they are made for. 

Look, too, at the outside of a chicken. Stroke 
its little feathers : how smooth and light and 
warm they are ; what a good covering they 



28 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



are for the little creature ; how many feathers 
there are all lying one way, and every feather 
itself is very curious. 

The mouth of a chicken is very different from 
the mouth of a dog or of a cat. It has a long 
bill, made sharp, and it opens so that it can 
pick up the corn and little seeds very easily, 
like a pair of nippers. 

It has claws, too, just right for scratching in 
the ground to find its food, and for keeping 
fast hold of the branch of a tree, when it grows 
older and goes there to roost at night. 

I think a chicken has as many curious parts 
as the nautilus. 

R. I do not know but it has, mother ; and I 
think it would be a great deal more difficult 
for any body to make a little chicken with 
wheels inside, so that it could walk and scratch 
in the ground, and pick up corn and seeds, than 
it would be to make a nautilus that would sail. 

M. It would be so, my son. 

But now I wish to explain something to you 
that is more wonderful than any thing which I 
have yet told you about the nautilus or the 
chicken. 

Suppose your uncle John could make a nau- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 29 

tilus, with so many new and curious wheels 
inside of it that somehow or other these wheels 
would move, and by and by make another nau- 
tilus just like the first. 

And suppose there should be wheels inside 
of this second one, that should move in the 
same way, and make a third, and so on till a 
hundred were made. 

R. Mother, you know that uncle John, or 
any body else, could never do that. 

M. But only suppose that he could, my son. 
Would you not think that his contrivance and 
skill would be a thousand times more wonder- 
ful than if he made only one nautilus ? 

R. Certainly, mother, I should. 

M. Well, Robert, there is something like 
this with regard to the little chicken. 

You know the hen lays eggs. She hatches 
thenf, and the little chickens come out of the 
eggs. When the chickens grow up they lay 
eggs, and hatch more little chickens. And so 
they keep on, year after year. 

R. How many years ago did the first hen 
live, mother ? 

M. Oh, a great many years ago. Do you 
not think that there was wonderful contriv- 



30 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ance and skill and design shown in that fin 
hen? 

R. I do, indeed, mother; for that first hei 
laid eggs, and little chickens came out of them ; 
and then these chickens grew up and laid more 
eggs, and more chickens came out of them, and 
so on, till what a wonderful number of chickens 
there have been in the world. 

M. Yes, my son. You see that there is a 
great deal of contrivance and skill shown in a 
little chicken, and a great deal of design in 
the way in which all its parts are put together. 
You see, too, that all this contrivance and skill 
and design was shown still more wonderfully in 
the first hen. 

Now, when you look at a kite, you know with 
what design it was made, and you see the con- 
trivance and skill with which its parts were 
put together. You know that somebody must 
have made it, and have thought beforehand 
how to make it. The kite could not have made 
Itself. 

So when you look at the curious little chick- 
en, or the curious little nautilus, and see the 
wonderful design and skill and contrivance 
which are shown in them, you know that some 



oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



one must have made them, and have made the 
first hen and the first nautilus, and have thought 
beforehand how to make them. 

It is your spirit, your mind, which thinks 
beforehand, which designs and contrives and 
directs your hands to be skilful whenever you 
make a kite. 

It is God, the great Spirit, the eternai 
Mind, who thought beforehand,, who designed, 
contrived, and made every little chicken and 
nautilus, and the first hen and nautilus, and 
the first things and beings, and all things and 
beings. 

When you see, my son, such wonderful skill 
and contrivance in the thousand beings and 
things which are around you, and the design 
with which they were made, and all their parts 
put together, you know certainly that there is 
a God who made them, just as certainly as you 
know that the tall kite which you saw the boys 
flying must have been made by somebody. 

God shows himself to you; he shows you 
his wonderful knowledge and contrivance and 
power and skill and design in your own body 
and soul, which he made, and in all the beings 
and things which are around you. 



32 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. How does God show himself to me, moth- 
er ? I do not see him. 

M. Do you see me, Robert ? 

R. Yes, mother, I see you now sitting right 
before me ? 

M. When I am asleep, can you see me then ? 

R. Certainly ; I saw you last evening, moth- 
er, when you were so tired, and slept in your 
chair. 

M. Suppose I should die, could you see me 
then? 

R. I should see your dead body. 

M. But the dead body would not be myself. 
It would not be your mother, whom you now 
see, and who is talking to you. My soul, or 
spirit, would have left the body, and if any one 
should ask you where your mother was, you 
would say you 'hoped that she had gone to 
heaven. 

Look at^my spectacles. When you see them 
do you see me ? 

R. No, mother ; but I see you looking through 
them. 

M. When you look at my eyes, do you see 
me? 

R. I see you, mother, looking through them. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



33 



M. So, when you see my lips and tongue 
move, you see me speaking to you with them. 
And when you see any part of my body moving, 
you see me making it move. 

When I am awake, you see my waking body ; 
when I am asleep, you see my sleeping body ; 
and if I should die, you would see my dead 
body; but you cannot see my soul. 

It is my soul which is now looking at you 
through the eyes of the body. It is my soul 
which is now speaking to you with the lips and 
tongue of the body. When I rise and walk, 
or do any thing with my hands, it is my soul 
which does it with the feet and hands of the 
body. 

My body with all its parts, so curiously and 
wonderfully made, is a kind of machine, or a 
collection of instruments, which my soul uses in 
different ways to do the different things which 
I wish to do. 

R. I remember, mother, you told me once 
about your spectacles being like another pair 
of eyes. 

M. Yes, my son ; my spectacles are an in- 
strument which I use to help me to see better. 
A man made them, and they are curiously made. 

Nut Thcolonj. 3 



34 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



So my eyes are instruments which I use to 
see with, and my tongue is an instrument which 
I use to talk with, and my hands are instru- 
ments which I use to do a great many things 
with. God made my eyes, my tongue, and my 
hands ; and they are vastly more curious instru- 
ments than any man can make. 

R. So they are, mother, and they are a great 
deal better too, for they do not get out of or- 
der as other instruments do, and we can carry 
them about with us without any trouble. 

M. Do you remember that curious machine, 
Robert, which I took you to see, the other day, 
in the cotton factory ? 

R. I do, mother ; how full it was of little 
wheels, and a great many curious things that 
kept moving so many different ways. 

M. Did you see what made it move ? 

R>. No, mother. But yon told me there was 
a boy in the other room turning a large wheel, 
which made the machine move. 

M. If you should go there again and see the 
machine moving, what would you think made 
it move ? 

S. I should know that it was a boy in the 
other room made it move. 



ON N AIURAL THEOLOG-Y. 35 

M. So, when you see any part of my body, 
which is itself a very curious machine, moving 
or doing any thing, you know that it is my 
soul — like the boy in the other room — making- 
it move and do so. 

R. Yes, mother, only I can open the door 
and go into the other room and see the boy, 
but I cannot find out any way to see your 
soul. 

M. Neither would you see the boy's soul. 
You would only see his body and his arm and 
hand moving, which turn the machine. You 
say you see me, because my soul, or what is the 
same thing, myself, is shown to you through, 
or with my body. You would not know that I 
was in my body, if I did not show myself to 
you by making my body move or do something. 
If I did not open my eyes, but lay perfectly 
still and did not move at all, and lay so for 
several days, you would think that I was dead, 
and that I was no longer in my body. You 
would not say that you saw me. 

R. I begin to understand you, mother. 

M. Well, as you cannot see my spirit, only 
as I show myself to you through or with my 
body, so you cannot see God the great Spirit, 



36 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

only as he shows himself to you in the wonder- 
ful things which he has made. 

When I open my eyes and look at you kind- 
ly, you say you see me looking at you kindly ; 
and you love me, and call me your dear 
mother. 

When the sun shines pleasantly over the 
eastern hills on you, and on every thing around 
you, and you look at it and rejoice in its 
cheerful light, think that it is God who makes 
it shine so pleasantly, and that you can, as it 
were, see him looking kindly at you ; and love 
him, and call him your heavenly Father. 

R. Yes, mother, and when I see the beautiful 
clear moon and the bright stars, I can think 
too that I see God looking down upon me 
from the blue sky. 

M. When I speak to you, my son, you love 
to hear my voice, and you say that you hear 
me speaking to you. 

You sometimes hoar the wind gently blow- 
ing through the trees, and making a pleasant 
sound among the leaves. 

Is it not the voice of God ? You do, as it 
were, hear him speaking kindly to you; and 
you must love him. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 37 

R. Mother, I sometimes hear it thunder, and 
I am afraid. Does God speak to me then ? 

M. Why not, my son ; and why should you 
be afraid ? 

It is God who makes the forked lightning 
and the loud thunder. He directs the storm, 
and he can keep you as safe in the midst 
of it as when the sky is all clear and pleas- 
ant. 

It is his voice that you hear in the thunder. 
You hear him as it were speaking to you from 
the dark clouds. He tells you that it is he 
who thunders in the heavens; that he is al- 
mighty, and that you must fear to displease 
him ; that he is almighty, and that he can 
do all things as he chooses ; that in his hands 
you are safe, and that he will make you hap- 
py with him for ever, in that bright and beau- 
tiful heaven away above the dark clouds 
where it is thundering, if you will love and 
obey him. 

R. Mother, how many new and strange 
things you have told me! How great and 
wonderful God is! When will you tell me 
more about him, and how he shows himself to 
me in the things which he has made ? 



38 



THE YOUTH* S BOOK 



M. I will teach you about him again, my 
son, very soon. In the meanwhile, remember 
what I have already taught you. 

And as you are learning more and more of 
God, you should desire to love him more and 
more, to think and speak of him more and 
more ; and to obey him more and more. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



-39 



DIALOGUE III. 

Mother. What is contrivance, Robert? 

Robert. It is to think beforehand how to 
make any thing. % 

M. Can you tell me of something which it 
required a good deal of contrivance to make ? 

R. Yes, mother, your silver pencil-case. 

M. You are right, Robert. You see it has 
a little hole at one end to keep the lead pen- 
cils in. And one part at the other end un- 
screws and comes off, so that you can put a 
pencil into it. Then there is another screw 
and a small wire, which pushes the little pen- 
cil out every time that you turn the screw. It 
is very curious. I do not have to sharpen my 
pencil with a penknife, as I used to do. I 
think it is a great deal more convenient than 
the old kind of pencils which I had to sharpen 
with a penknife. The man that first thought 
how to make it, must have had a good deal of 
contrivance. 

Now, Robert, tell me what skill is. 



40 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

R. I remember, mother, you told me yester- 
day. It is, after any body has contrived to 
make any thing, to get every thing ready, and 
put all the parts together just as they ought to 
be, so as to have the thing well made, and to 
do all this easily and exactly, without making 
any mistake. I think there is a good deal of 
skill shown irf making and putting together all 
the parts of your silver pencil-case. 

M. What do you understand by design ? 

R. The man who contrived and made the 
first pencil-case like yours, mother, thought 
what he would make it for — to hold a little 
lead pencil which would not need sharpening, 
and with which you could write a great deal 
more conveniently than with the old kind. 
This was his design in making it. Design is 
to think beforehand what we will make a thing 
for. 

M. I am glad, my son, to see that you under- 
stand and recollect so well what I have taught 
you. 

Now tell me, can a very curious and useful 
instrument be made to do a particular thing 
with, unless somebody first has a design, and 
contrives it, and makes it skilfully, so as to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. Ml 

have it just right for doing that particular 
thing ? 

R. Certainly not, mother. 

M. Robert, if you should see such an instru- 
ment very convenient to do a particular thing 
with, having a great many curious parts all 
put together just right for the instrument to be 
used easily and well, would you not know that 
it must have been contrived and made by some 
very skilful person, who had a particular de- 
sign in making it ? 

R. I certainly should, mother 

M. Well, my son, I am going to show you 
such an instrument ; so curiously and wonder- 
fully made, with so much design and contriv- 
ance and skill in it, so much more curious and 
wonderful than any thing that a man can make, 
that you will see in it -God, who designed it, 
showing his great wisdom and power and 
goodness to you. 

This instrument alone is enough to convince 
us that there is a God. 

R. Do show me this instrument, mother ; I 
wish to see it very much. \ 

M. Lay your arm on this table, Robert, and 
keep your elbow still. 



42 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Now turn your hand over. Turn it back 
again. ■ Turn it over and back again a good 
many times, very quickly. 

Now bend your elbow and raise your hand 
up, so as to touch your shoulder. Let it fall 
again. Raise it and let it fall again a good 
many times, very quickly. 

Now make your thumb and fingers move as 
many different ways as you can. 

Now stretch out your whole arm as far as 
you can. Do not bend it at all. Swing it 
round and round, and make it go up and down, 
and to the right and to the left as far as you 
can, and as fast as you can. 

Your arm and hand, my son, is the instru- 
ment which I was going to show you. 

Must it not be very curiously made, that you 
can make so many different kinds of motions 
with it ? 

It. It must indeed, mother ; do explain to me 
more about it. 

M. I will, my son, and you will see how kind 
God is in providing you with such an instrument, 
with which you can do so many different things. 

Did you ever think how many different 
things we can do with our arms and hands ? 



ON X A i URAL THEOLOG-Y. 43 

R. I never did, mother ; but I now begin to 
think about it, and to wonder at it. 

ML We can do so many things with our arms 
and hands, that I have not time to tell you 
about them all. 

Only look around you and see the people 
svho are busy and industrious; how many 
thousand, thousand different things they can 
do with their arms and hands. 

By the help of their arms and hands, people 
build houses to live in. They make clothes to 
wear. They plough and sow and reap, and 
gather in the grain and vegetables and fruits. 
They prepare food in a great many different 
ways to eat. They spin, weave, paint, carve, 
engrave, print, and write. 

But this is not one half, no, not one thou- 
sandth part of what people do with their arms 
and hands. 

How very helpless and miserable we should 
be if we had no arms and hands, or if they 
were made just like the leg and foot of a 
dog or horse, or like the leg and claw of 
a bird. 

R. All that you are telling me, mother, is 
very wonderful indeed. I do not think that 



44 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



people feel as thankful as they ought to do to 
God, for giving them their arms and hands. 

M. That is true, my son, and after I have 
explained to you some of the parts of the arm 
and hand, and how they are put together, and 
how you can move them only by thinking to 
have them move, you will see still more why 
you ought to be truly thankful to God for giv- 
ing you such a curious and useful instrument, 
with which to do so many things that are ne- 
cessary for your happiness and improvement. 

You must be very attentive and patient, or 
you will not understand me. 

R. I will try to be so, mother. 

M. You have seen the bones of some animals, 
my son, have you not ? 

E. Oh yes, mother, I have often seen them 
. when we have had meat at dinner, or turkies 
and fowls. You know you sometimes give me 
the leg of a fowl, which you call the drumstick, 
but it looks only a very little like one. 

M. Well, there are a great many bones in 
your arm and hand, and you can feel them 
through the flesh with your hand. On the fol- 
lowing page is a drawing of the bones in your 
arm and hand. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



45 



You see, from the shoulder (b) to the elbow 
(c) there is only one bone, but from the elbow 
to the wrist there are two bones. 




The bone (a) is called the shoulder-bone. The 
bone (d) which joins the wrist on the side 
where the thumb is, is called the radius. The 
bone (c) which joins the wrist on the side 
where the little finger is, is called the ulna. 



46 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



You must remember these names, Eobert. 

R. I will try, mother ; the shoulder bone, the 
radius, the ulna. 

M. I shall first explain to you, my son, about 
the joint of the arm at the shoulder. 

E. What is a joint, mother? I know where 
the joints are, for I have joints in my thumb 
and fingers, so that 1 can bend and move them 
a great many different ways ; but the joint is 
covered with flesh, and I cannot see it. What 
is it like ? 

M. There are different kinds of joints in the 
body, my son ; some are something like the 
hinge to a door, which may be called the joint 
of the door, by the help of which the door can 
be made to open and shut. You see it can 
move only one way, backwards and forwards. 

The joints of your fingers, and the joints at 
your elbows, are hinge joints. 

By the help of them you can shut and open 
your fingers ; and if your elbow is leaning on a 
table, you can let your hand go down to the 
table and raise it up again, so as to have it 
touch your shoulder. This joint, like the hinge 
on the door, can move only one way. 
. Go and look at the hinge of the door ; you 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



47 



will see that one part of the hinge, which is 
fastened on to the door, fits into the other part of 
the hinge, which is fastened on to the door-post, 
so as to move in it, and thus let the door move. 
These two parts of the hinge, moving the one in 
the other, maybe called a joint, and they are fast- 
ened together by an iron pin or piece of wire. 

This iron pin passes through them, up and 
down, and keeps them together, so that there 
is no danger of the door's falling down or get- 
ting out of its place. 

In the same way, in our bodies, where there 
are joints, the end of one bone fits on to the 
end of another bone, and is fastened to it, not 
with a pin, but by something like yery strong, 
tough threads or cords, and by something like 
a little bag, which goes all round the end of 
the two bones, so that it helps, with the cords, 
to keep them firmly together, and they move 
easily, without any danger of getting out of their . 
place. The ends of the bones do not quite touch 
each other. The end of each bone is covered 
with something softer than the bone, but not 
so soft as flesh. You sometimes see it on the 
bones of meat at dinner, and it is called gristle. 
It is very tough and difficult to be broken, and 



48 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



is a little elastic, something like India-rubber, 
This gristle keeps the hard bones from jarring 
and rubbing against each other, which would 
be very unpleasant. Besides, without this gris- 
tle the bones would not move so easily, and 
they would be likely to wear away, we use 
them so constantly and so much. 

You see, Eobert, that God shows you, in the 
way ill which he has made your arm and hand, 
his great wisdom and power and goodness. 

Even one single joint, which I have been 
telling you about, shows the wonderful design 
and contrivance and skill of God. 

R. It does indeed, mother. 

M. But, my son, there is something about a 
joint which is yet more wonderful. 

B. What is that, mother ? 

M. What do people have to do to the wheels 
of their wagons, after they have run some time 
¥ and begin to go hard and slow, and make a 
creaking, unpleasant noise ? 

R. They have to grease them. And do you 
not remember, mother, that you put a little 
sweet oil into the joint of my knife, the other 
day, and how easy it made it open and shut? 
I could hardly open it before. 



ON NATURAL THE OLOG-Y. 



49 



M. Well, my son, there is something a little 
like sweet oil, only a great deal more smooth, 
which is constantly softening those parts of the 
joints which move against each other, and 
making them slippery, so that they move easily 
and pleasantly. 

This joint-oil is made inside of the little 
elastic bag, which I told you goes all round tho 
ends of the two bones at the joint. The bag 
holds the oil and keeps it from running out. 

If there is disease in the joint and this oil is not 
made, the joint becomes stiff, and one bone creaks 
upon another and feels very uncomfortable. 

Xow, God has made our joints so skilfully 
and so well, that the joints of most persons go 
safely and pleasantly all their lives, and never 
get out of order. 

And when we consider that there are about 
two hundred and fifty bones in our bodies, con- 
nected together by various joints, and how 
often we move the most of these joints, even in 
one day, and how many millions and millions 
and millions of times an old man has moved 
them, from the time that he was a little infant, 
is it not wonderful how long and how well 
they last ? 

Nat. Theolosry 4 



50 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



What man could make a hinge of a door, or 
a wheel of a wagon, that would move so often 
and wear so long, without having any thing 
done to it to keep it in order? 

We have often to grease the wheels of our 
wagons, and sometimes to put in new spokes, 
and get new wheels made ; and we have to oil 
the hinges of our doors, and sometimes the 
screws work out and the hinges grow loose, 
and we have to put them in order or get new 
ones. 

But we take no care of our joints. We 
hardly ever think about them. God has made 
them to keep on going well, and in doing this, 
what wonderful design and contrivance and 
skill he has shown ! 

E. Mother, I am sure that one joint is 
enough to make any body believe that there is 
a God, and that he made our bodies and souls. 

M. When you use your joints then, my son, 
think of God, and how he shows himself to you 
in your curious body which he has made, and 
how you ought to love him for having given 
you such a body, and how you ought to use it, 
and all its parts, in serving him and in doing 
good to others. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 51 

Bat we must stop now. When we talk to- 
gether again I will explain to you more par- 
ticularly about the joint at the shoulder, and 
afterwards about the other parts of the arm. 

R. Before we go, mother, may T ask you only 
one question ? 

M. Do, my son. 

R. Was there ever any body who did not be- 
lieve that there is a God, who made our joints 
and our bodies? 

M. There have been a very few persons, my 
son, who have said that they did not believe 
that there is a God, but that all beings and 
things were made by chance. Such persons are 
called Atheists. 

R. What do they mean, mother, when they 
say that chance made things? What is chance? 

M. If you should take two hundred and fifty 
little wooden blocks of different sizes and 
shapes, just as many as there are bones in our 
bodies, and without any design throw them all 
together into a heap, and they should pretty 
soon begin to move about of themselves, and 
one block go towards some other block and fit 
themselves together, and at last all come in 
exact order, like the bones in our bodies, and 



52 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



keep so, so that it would be very difficult for 
you to pull them apart, then all this would 
happen by chance. 

It might have happened very differently ; but 
it happened to happen just as it did, and there 
was not the least design, or contrivance, or 
skill about it. 

R. I never could believe that, mother, and I 
do not think any body else could. 

M. Atheists, my son, say they believe so, 
but they must either* be exceedingly wicked, 
or very foolish, to believe so. 

I will tell you more about them and about 
chance, which they say made all things, some 
other time. 



DIALOGUE IV. 

Mother. I promised, Robert, to explain to 
ycu more particularly about the joint at the 
shoulder, and about the other parts of the 
arm. 

Do you wish to have me do it now, or would 
you rather go and play ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 53 

Robert. I had rather talk with you, mother, 
and learn more of the design and contrivance 
and skill which God shows me in my curious 
body that he has made. 

M. Well, be attentive then, and I will begin. 

Here is a drawing of the joint at the shoul- 
der, which I wish you to examine. 




R. Which arm is it, mother? 

M. It is the right arm, and only the bones 



54 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



are drawn. The gristle on the ends of the 
bones, and the little bag which goes round them 
and helps to keep them together, and holds the 
joint-oil, and the threads or cords that fasten 
the bones together, about which I told you, 
are not drawn. If they had been, you could 
not have seen the bones so distinctly. I will 
show you the drawings of them at some other 
time. 

R. Mother, do you call this a hinge-joint? 
It does not seem to me to look at all like a 
hinge. 

M. No, my son, it is not a hinge-joint ; it is 
quite a different kind of joint. If it was a 
hinge-joint, you would be able to move your 
arm at the shoulder only one way, right up 
and down. A door, you know, can be moved 
only one way to open and shut it. The joint 
at your elbow is a hinge-joint, and you cannot 
move your arm at the elbow, round and^round, 
as you can at the shoulder. 

A hinge-joint at the shoulder would have 
been very inconvenient. God knew that 
would. He therefore made it very different 
from a hinge-joint; and this shows you not 
only his contrivance and skill, but that he had 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. * 55 

a particular design in making the joint at the 
shoulder just as he did. 

R. What was his design, mother, in making 
it so? 

M. You will see by and by, my son. 

Look at the upper end (a) of the shoulder- 
bone. It is round, very m^ch like the little 
ball that you play with. 

Now look at the bone at which I am point- 
ing (b.) It is called the shoulder-blade, because 
it is flat and thin, something like the blade of 
a knife. You can feel it directly behind your 
shoulder. 

You see one end of this bone crooks round, 
like the bill of a crow (c.) 

You see, too, that there is another end which 
crooks round also (d.) 

Between these hooks, as we will call them, 
you see a small hollow place in the shoulder- 
blade (e.) 

Around this hollow place there is a ring of 
gristle, which, with the hollow place, makes a 
kind of cup, in which the round end of the 
shoulder-bone (a) fits exactly, and moves with 
great ease. 

The end of this bone (a,) you recollect, is also 



5G 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



covered with gristle, and so is the hollow place 
in the shoulder-blade (e.) 

R. I do not see the ring of gristle, mother, 
nor the gristle on the end of the shoulder-bone, 
in the picture. 

M. They are not drawn, my son, but you can 
think a little how they would look. I will show 
them to you some time in a picture. 

The round end of the shoulder-bone in your 
arm keeps in the hollow cup about which I 
have been telling you, and it moves round in 
the cup every time that you move your arm. 
It moves easily too, because the ring and 
coverings of gristle are so smooth and elastic, 
and because the joint-oil keeps them slippery. 

Only try, and see how easily and quickly, 
and in how many different ways, you can move 
your arm at the shoulder-joint. 

Eobert does so. 

R. Mother, what do you call the shoulder- 
joint ? You said it is not a hinge-joint. 

M. We might call it a cup-and-ball joint. It 
is more common, however, to call it a ball-and- 
socket joint. The socket is the hollow place 
like a cup, which holds the round end of the 
Done, and in which it moves. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 57 

Make your left hand hollow, as much like a 
cup as you can, and shut the thumb and fingers 
of your right hand, as the boys do when they 
double up a fist. 

Now put your right hand into your left hand, 
and hold it fast with the thumb and fingers of 
the left hand, and move your right hand round 
as many different ways as you can. 

Robert does so. 

R. Mother, I can move it all sorts of ways. 
I can make my right arm go up and down, or 
forwards and backwards, or round and round, 
very quick indeed. 

M. Well, this is something like the joint at 
the shoulder. The two hooked ends of the 
shoulder-blade (c cl) which you see in the pic- 
ture, clasp round the round end of the shoulder- 
bone (a,) and help to keep it in its place, some- 
what as the thumb and fingers of your left 
hand did your right hand. But this alone 
would not be enough to keep the shoulder-bone 
in its place ; something more is necessary. 

R. Mother, how is the end of the shoulder- 
bone kept so strongly in the hollow cup, and 
never gets out of it. 

M. Call it socket, my son. 



58 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



The encf of the shoulder-bone is kept in the 
Bocket in this way : 

The little bag that holds the joint-oil, and 
the two hooked ends of the shoulder-blade, 
help to keep the end of the shoulder-bone in 
the socket; but, besides this, there are strips 
of hard and strong flesh and several very 
tough and strong cords, that are fastened to 
these strips of flesh, which pass over the shoul- 
der-joint in various ways, and bind it and keep 
it from moving out of the socket. 

The strips of flesh are called muscles, and the 
cords that are fastened to the muscles are called 
tendons. 

The muscles and tendons are fastened to the 
bones on different sides of the joints; they 
pull the bones, and make them act on the joints 
a great many different ways. Besides this, 
they bind the shoulder-joint and keep it in its 
place, as I have just told you. 

R. Mother, do explain to me more about 
these muscles and tendons ; they must be very 
curious ; I wish I could see them. 

M. We must not attend to too many things 
at once, Robert ; you can understand things 
best by attending to only one at a time. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



59 



I intend to tell you more hereafter about 
the muscles and tendons, and to show you some 
pictures of them. 

R. I shall be very glad, mother, and thank 
you very much. 

M. I have done explaining to you, Robert, 
about the joint at the shoulder. 

Xow I will tell you about the joint at the 
elbow, which is also very curious, and shows 
you the design, contrivance, and skill of God 
in making it. 

Here is a drawing of it, which I wish you to 
examine. 




M. It is the right arm which you are look- 
ing at, and the elbow is towards you, as if the 
person were standing with his back to you. 

R. That, mother, is a part of the shoulder- 
bone (a,) about which you have been telling me. 

M. Yes, but you do not see the round end, 



60 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



which sets into the socket at the shoulder- 
joint. 

The other end of the bone, which you see, has 
a very different shape. 

There is a hollow place (b) at this end, into 
which a hooked part (c) of another bone sets. 
You recollect I showed you this bone, (see 
page 45,) and told you that it was called the 
ulna. It is this bone which moves up and 
down at the elbow-joint, when the whole arm 
is stretched out, and the shoulder-bone kept 
still. 

R. I shall remember, mother, to call it the 
ulna. You told me, too, that the ulna, at its 
lower end, joins the wrist on the side where 
the little finger is. 

M. Well, a hooked end of the ulna (c,) you 
see, sets into a hollow place (b) of the shoul- 
der-bone at the elbow-joint. It is this hooked 
end of the ulna on which you lean, when you 
say that you lean on your elbow. You can 
feel it very easily with your thumb and fin- 
gers. 

Now suppose the person at whose right arm 
you are looking, to turn round and face you. 
You will see the inside of the arm, thus. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. " Gl 




Look at the lower end of the shoulder-bone, 
and you see a small hollow place (a) into which 
another hooked end (b) of the ulna sets ; this 
hollow place, however, is quite shallow, not so 
deep as the one on the other side, which I 
showed you, and this end is not so long and 
hooked as the other end. 

These two hooked ends of the ulna clasp 
round the end of the shoulder-bone and form a 
joint, which is called a hinge-joint, so that you 
can move your arm at the elbow, but you can 
move it only one way. 

When you straighten your arm, the hooked 
end on the outside goes into the hollow place 
on the outside, and sets firm and fast into it, 
and helps to keep the ulna in its place and 
from going any further back. 

When you bend your arm, so as to bring 
your hand up to your shoulder, the crooked 



62 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



end of the ulna on the inside goes into the hol- 
low place on the inside, and helps keep the ulna 
in its place, and from going any further that 
way. 

R. Mother, I wish I could see the real 
bones, and then I should know exactly how 
they look. 

M. When you grow older, my son, perhaps 
you may see them; but I think you can under- 
stand about them pretty well, from looking at 
the pictures. 

R. I do not know, mother, that I understand 
exactly how the two hooked ends of the ulna, 
going quite down into the two hollow places 
in the end of the shoulder-bone, help to keep 
the arm from going too far one way or the 
other. 

M. I think I can explain it to you a little 
further, so that you will understand it. 

Shut up your left hand tight, as the boys do 
when they double up a fist. 

Now crook the thumb and fore-finger of your 
right hand so as to make half the letter 0, and 
shut up the three other fingers. 

Clasp your left hand with the thumb and 
fore-finger of your right hand, so that the fore- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY". ( 63 

finger may lie between the lower joint of the 
little finger and of the finger next to it, and 
that the thumb may lie just under the thumb ol 
the left hand. 

Roll your right hand on your left hand, from 
you and towards you, keeping it as close as 
you can to your left hand, and making the fore- 
finger and thumb of your right hand as hooked 
as you can. 

You will see that, after your right hand has 
moved a little one way or the other, it will 
stop ; and if there were two small hollow places 
in your left hand, in which the ends of your 
thumb and finger could set, this would help 
still more to keep your right hand from mov- 
ing any further, and to keep it in its place. 

The middle joint of the fore-finger of your 
right hand represents, or is like the elbow of 
your arm ; and the clasping of the fore-finger 
and thumb round your left hand, is something 
like the hinge-joint at the elbow. 

R. Now, mother, I seem to understand it 
better. But you have not told me any thing 
yet about the radius. 

M. One thing at a time, my son. Just now, 
you did not quite understand about the motion 



64 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



of the ulna round the end of the shoulder-bone. 
Be attentive, and not in a hurry. Be sure that 
you understand every thing as I am explaining 
it to you ; and if you do not understand it, tell 
me so, and ask me all the questions that you 
wish to do. 

That is the way that little boys and girls 
should do, and big men and women too, when 
they are learning any thing new and difficult. 

If people would all do so, they would know a 
great deal more than they do ; they would not 
so often be mistaken, and they would be a 
great deal wiser. 

This evening I will tell you about the radius, 
and then you can ask me any more questions 
that you choose, about what I have already 
told you 



OK NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



65 



DIALOGUE V. 

Robert. Mother, it is more than an hour 
yet, before I must go to bed. Remember, you 
promised to tell me about the radius. 

Mother. Well, my son, I always mean to 
keep my promises. Come, sit down by the 
table and look at this drawing. 




R. Oh, mother, I remember which the radius 
is. There it is, (a,) just above the ulna (b.) 

M. You are right, Robert. You see one 
end (c) of it is on that side of the hand where 

Nat. Tlieology. 5 



66 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the thumb is, and the other end (d) almost 
touches the lower end (e) of the shoulder-bone. 

R. Does it not set into the shoulder-bone, 
mother, as the hooked ends of the ulna do ? 

M. No, my son; but there is a small round 
knob (f) on the end of the shoulder-bone, on 
which the end of the radius moves. The end 
of the radius is made to fit on to this knob, so 
that it is a very little like a ball-and-socket 
joint. 

The radius moves two ways on this knob: 
up and down when the elbow-joint moves, and 
the hand is moved up and down ; and it turns 
round on this knob, when the hand is turned 
round at the wrist. 

R. Mother, how many curious motions the 
different bones have. 

M. Yes, my son. Do you think that you 
could cut out some little sticks of wood, and 
shape them, and fit them together so as to 
make them have as many different, curious mo- 
tions as the bones of the arm have ? 

R. No, mother, I should not have contriv- 
ance and skill enough. 

M. Well, my son, as we go on in our expla- 
nation, you will keep seeing more and more 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



"67 



of the wonderful design and contrivance and 
skill of God, and of his goodness too, in mak- 
ing for you such a curious and convenient in- 
strument as the arm and hand. 

R. Mother, the end of the radius (d) next 
to the shoulder-bone looks like a button. 

M. Yes, my son, and it is called a button* 
head. You see the edge of it just touches the 
upper side of the ulna. 

R. Is it fastened to it, mother ? 

M. No, my son. If it were, you could not 
turn your hand round at the wrist. 

R. Why not, mother ? I do not understand 
that. 

M. One end of the radius (c,) Robert, is 
fastened to some little bones which are at the 
bottom of that side of the hand where the 
thumb is. To these little bones the hand is 
fastened, and it rests and moves on them. 

Now, when you keep your arm quite still, so 
as not to move it either at the shoulder or at 
the elbow, and turn your hand over and back 
again, the little bones at the bottom of the 
hand must turn over too. 

These little bones are fastened to the radius, 
so that the radius must turn round also. And 



68 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



this it could not do, if its button-head (d) were 
fastened tight to the ulna. If it were, the 
radius could only move up and down, and only 
when the ulna did ; for, being fastened tight to 
it, the radius would move just as the ulna does. 

Do you understand me ? 

R. I think I do, mother, but I wish to look 
at the drawing a little more. 

M. Just as long as you please, Robert. 

R. Mother, it seems to me that when the 
radius turns round at the same time that the 
hand does at the wrist, that the edge of the 
button-head (d) must roll on the side of the 
ulna. 

M. You are right, my son. It does; and 
there is a small hollow place (g) scooped out 
of the upper side of the end of the ulna, in which 
the edge of the button-head fits exactly, and in 
which it rolls whenever it turns round. 

It is this turning round of the radius that 
enables you to turn your hand round at the 
wrist, so that you can hold, the back of it up- 
wards, and then the palm of it upwards, just 
as you choose. 

R. Is the end of the radius at the wrist (c) 
fastened to the ulna, mother ? 



ON NATURAL IHEOLOOY. 



M. No, my son, for then the radius could 
not turn round ; it could only move as the ulna 
does. 

But, at the wrist, it is the ulna that has 
a sort of button-head (h,) and the hollow 
place which fits it is scooped out of the radius, 
so that when the radius turns round, this 
hollow place rolls on the button-head of the 
ulna. 9 • • 

And God has made all this so exactly and 
so curiously to enable you both to bend your 
arm at the elbow, and at the same time to 
turn your hand round whenever you wish to 
do it. 

Put your two fore-fingers close along side of 
each other. Keep them close at the lower 
joint, while you roll the fore-finger of the right 
hand over and across the fore-finger of the left 
hand and back again. 

Robert does so. 

"Well, this is something like the rolling of 
the radius over and across the ulna when you 
turn your hand over and back again ; and you 
see the reason why, at the elbow, the button- 
head of the radius rolls in the hollow place (g) 
of the ulna, and why, at the wrist, the hollow 



70 



THE YOUTH'S BOOIi 



place of the radius rolls on the button-head (h) 
of the ulna. 

In this way the end of the radius at the 
wrist has more motion than the end at the 
elbow ; ft has a larger sweep, and the hand 
can be turned over further and more easily. 

R. Curious, curious! Mother, are all the 
other parts of the body as curious ? 

M« Yes, my son; and many of them are a 
great deal more so. 

R. I should think it would take a great 
while to understand about them all. 

M. It would so, Robert ; a great many books 
have been written about them by very wise 
and learned men, and yet all is not known 
about them. Probably, many more curious 
and wonderful things will yet be found out. 
Then we shall have still more reason to ad- 
mire and be thankful for the great wisdom 
and power and skill and goodness of God in 
the bodies which he has made for our souls 
to live in, and to use in so many ways for our 
happiness, and for that of our fellow-men. 

But we must talk a little more about the 
elbow-joint before you go to bed. Are you 
tired ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 71 

E. Not at all, mother; I could sit here an 
hour longer, what you say is so entertaining 
and instructive to me. 

M. I only wish to tell you how the shoulder- 
bone, the ulna, and the radius are fastened 
together at the elbow-joint ; for there are some 
things about it a little different from the joint 
at the shoulder, and which show still further 
the design, contrivance, and skill of God. 

The ends of the bones, as at the shoulder- 
joint, are covered with gristle, the use of 
which I explained to you. The joint-oil too 
is furnished and kept in a bag which sur- 
rounds the joint, and you recollect what it is 
for. 

Several muscles, also, and tendons — the strips 
of hard flesh and tough, strong cords, about 
which I told you — pass across the joint, and 
being fastened above and below it, help to keep 
the ulna and the radius in their places. 

But there is still something more done to 
keep them in their places ; and this was very 
necessary, for there is great strain at the elbow- 
joint when we lift any thing very heavy, or do 
any thing very hard with our hands. 

Here is a drawing at which I wish you to 



72 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

look very attentively while I am explaining it 
to you. 




(a) is the shoulder-bone, (b) the radius, and 
(c) the ulna of the left arm. 

They are all bound together by the bag of 
the joint, (d,) which is not .very strong itself, 
but is made so by some ligaments that cross it 
in different directions. 

R. Mother, what is a ligament ? 

M. I was just going to tell you, but I am 
glad that you asked me, for it shows that you 
recollect what I have told you — always to ask 
the meaning of any words that you do not un- 
derstand. 

If you should wind the end of your handker- 
chief round two of your fingers, so as to. bind 
them together, it would be called a ligament. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. -73 

A ligament is a band of any kind put round 
two or more things to bind them together. 

The ligaments in our bodies are either flat, 
like a piece of tape, or round like a cord. 
They are very tough and strtmg, and are made 
up of a great many yery fine threads very close 
together — closer than a strong man could twist 
a great many fine strong cords together. . 

Now look again at the drawing. The liga- 
ment (e) is a part of the bag, and goes oyer the 
button-head of the radius. It is yery hard, and 
something like gristle. It is strengthened very 
much by another ligament (n n,) which you see 
goes across the bag. 

There are also two ligaments (o o,) which 
are small but strong slips, that go from the end 
of the shoulder-bone to the bottom of the large 
hook of the ulna. 

Then there is a ligament (p) passing between 
the radius and the ulna. 

So you see what care is taken to make the 
elbow-joint firm and strong, and to keep all the 
bones in their places, while they can still move 
so curiously around and upon and across each 
other. 

You understand now, I suppose, enough about 



74 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the joints at the shoulder, and at the elbow, to 
see the design which God had in making them 
as he did. 

R. I do pretty well, mother. His design 
was, to have them move in the best way for 
our using them. 

M. That is right, Robert. And only think 
if the hinge-joint was at the shoulder, and the 
ball-and-socket joint at the elbow, how awk- 
wardly we should move our arm. 

It would be difficult then, and indeed impos- 
sible, for us to do many things with our arms 
and hands which we now do with great ease 
and quickness. 

Could anybody suppose that the man who first 
thought of making a pencil-case, like my silver 
one, had not a particular design in making it? 
When you examine it, and see how all its parts 
are curiously made and skilfully put together, 
do you not think at once, and believe, that a 
man made it, and that he had a particular 
design in making all its parts, and in putting 
them together just as he did ? 

And when you examine the hinge of a door, 
can you believe that it was made for any other 
purpose than to have the door swing upon it? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



-75 



Did not the man who first thought how to make 
it have a particular design in making all its 
parts and in putting them together just as he 
did? 

What else could the pencil-case have been 
made for, than to hold a small, new kind of lead 
pencil, different from the old kind, and more 
convenient for a person to write with ? 

What else could the hinge of a door have 
been made for, than to have the door swing 
upon it, and open and shut ? 

In the same way, what else could the joints 
at the shoulder and elbow have been made for 
than to help the arm and hand to move easily 
and quickly a great many different ways, so 
that we can use them for doing a great many 
different things ? 

And why were the shoulder-joint and the 
elbow-joint made so differently from each other? 
Here we see another particular design ; for if 
there were no such design, they would have 
been made alike, just as the two hinges of a 
door are. 

There is no reason why the two hinges of a 
door should be unlike. No, there are good rea- 
sons why they should be made exactly alike. 



76 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Now there are no good reasons why the 
shoulder and elbow joints should be made 
alike. If they were made so, they would be very 
awkward and inconvenient, and quite useless 
for doing many things which we now do easily 
and well. 

But you can see many good reasons why they 
should be made unlike, and why at the shoul- 
der there should be a ball-and-socket joint, and 
at the elbow a hinge joint. 

In making them so, God had a particular 
design; and when we examine their curious 
parts, we not only believe that there is a God 
who made them, but that he made all the parts 
and put them together just as he did, for one 
purpose and for no other. 

Every time that we move our arms and our 
hands, or do any thing with them, shows us 
this one purpose for which God made the joints 
exactly as he has made them. 

E, Mother, how little men know, and how 
little they can do. How wise and powerful 
and skilful God is. 

M. Remember, too, my son, how good God is. 
He is good in making all the parts of your 
body just as he has made them, and in keeping 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



■77 



them in order as he does, and in giving you 
health and strength, and. in keeping you safe 
from danger, so that none of your limbs have 
been broken, or any part of your body injured. 

Has not God a right to command you never 
to use your arms and hands for doing any thing 
wrong, nor your lips and tongue for saying 
any thing wrong, but to use them, and. your 
whole body, in obeying and serving him, and 
in doing good to others ? 

R. Yes, indeed, I think he has, mother. 

M. Remember it, my son; and always fear 
to use your body for any wrong purpose, and 
thus sin against God, for God looks on all who 
sin against him with very great displeasure. 

R. 1 hope, mother, that I shall always re- 
member what you have told me, and try to 
uae my arms and hands, and lips and tongue, 
and all the parts of my body, just as I ought 
to do, and to do good with them. 

M. I hope you will, my son, and that God 
will enable you to do so. 



78 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



DIALOGUE VI. 

Mother. You have been a good boy, Robert, 
and said your lessons well, and now I will 
explain to you something more about the arm 
and hand. 

Robert. I shall be very much obliged to you, 
mother, for doing it. For I should not like to 
stop now, and not know any thing about the 
wrist and hand, since I understand pretty well 
about the bones and joints in the arm. 

M. You will see, my son, that the bones and 
joints in the arm are all connected with the 
bones and joints of the wrist and hand ; indeed, 
they were designed principally to enable you 
to use your hand. The different kinds of mo- 
tions, as the shoulder and elbow joints, enable 
you to carry your hand from one place to 
another ; to reach up high, or down low, and 
get any thing; to stretch your hand forward 
or to put it behind you, and to move it in one 
direction and another, as you may wish. 

So you see all the parts of your arm and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. .79 

hand are only parts of one and the same instru- 
ment, made and put together with one design, 
to enable you to use it easily and quickly, for 
your own good, and the good of others. 

R. Mother, God must have thought a good 
deal how to make the arm and hand. 

It would take a man a great while to think 
how to make such a curious and useful instru- 
ment, and one, too, that should always keep in 
good order. 

M. My son, God's thoughts are not as our 
thoughts. 

When we say that God designs and contrives, 
we do not mean that he does so as we do. 

We have to think long and hard in design- 
ing any thing which it is difficult to make. 
Some men have spent many years in doing this. 
The man that first designed a steamboat did ; 
and yet he did not make it as good as it might 
have been made. Other persons have since 
designed and made steamboats, and made them 
better in many things. And other persons 
will probably make steamboats still better, 
more safe, and more useful, and thus show 
their design and contrivance. 

But God thinks immediately, and without 



80 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the least difficulty, how to make the things 
which he wishes to make, and which appear to 
us the most difficult to be made. 

He knows all things, and therefore knows 
all the different ways in which things can be 
made, and how their parts can be put together, 
and what is the best way of doing this. 

When a man designs and contrives any thing, 
he could not do it if he had not learned a great 
many things from others. 

You could not design and contrive how to 
make a new kind of kite, if you had not seen 
the boys make kites, and thus learned yourself 
how to make them. 

But God learns nothing from other beings. 
He knows and has always known how all kinds 
of beings and things can be made, and for what 
they can be made ; and he can make them 
whenever he chooses, exactly and perfectly, as 
easily and quickly as you can speak a word. 

E. What do you mean, mother, when you sav 
that God is skilful ? 

M. Do you remember that you told me. some 
days ago, what skill is ? 

R. Yes, mother. 

M. Well, tell me again what it is. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



.81 



R. It is, after any body lias contrived how 
to make any thing, to get every thing ready, 
and put all the parts together just as they 
ought to be, so as to have the thing well made; 
and to do all this easily and exactly, without 
making any mistake. 

M. We do not get our skill at once. It 
takes us a long time to get it. You had to 
make a good many kites before you were skil- 
ful in making one. Little children are not 
skilful. They make a great many mistakes, 
when they try to make any thing. They must 
grow older, and often see other persons do 
things, and have things explained to them, and 
think a great deal, and use their hands a great 
deal, before they can have skill in making or 
doing things. 

But God does not get his skill in this way. 
He never has to -learn how to make or to do 
any thing. His skill is perfect. 

By this I mean, that he never makes the 
smallest mistake in making any thing, and that 
he can make it at once, and without the least 
difficulty, exactly as it is best it should be 
made. 

When the most skilful man makes any thing, 

Naj. Theol. 6 



82 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



other persons will sometimes see some way in 
which it might be made a little better. 

Nobody can see any way in which the things 
which God has made could be made at all 
better. 

The arm and hand, with all their joints and 
parts, could not be made better in any one 
thing, when we consider the being for whom 
they were made, the body to which they belong, 
and the uses for which they were designed. 
Can any body point out a way in which any 
part of the arm or hand could be made better ? 
Nobody can. In them God shows us his per- 
fect skill ; and in all things which God has 
made his skill is perfect. 

This is some explanation of the skill of God. 
But all that we know, or all that we can think 
about it, is far, very far below what it truly is. 

The skill of God is one part of his wisdom, 
and he is wise in knowing every thing which 
it is best should be done or made, and also in 
knowing the very best way in which it should 
be done or made. 

The wisdom of God is as much greater than 
our wisdom, as this world is greater than one 
grain of sand; yes, as millions and millions 



ON NATURAL THE OLOGY. 



53 



and millions of this world would be greater 
than one such grain ; and as many more worlds, 
added to these, as all the people that ever lived 
could count, if they should do nothing but count 
all their lives. 

The wisdom of God is infinite. But come, 
look at this drawing, and I will explain to you 
about the wrist and hand. (See page 65.) 

The wrist is made up of eight small bones, 
(k,) which you see are of different sizes and 
shapes. 

They are tied together very strongly by 
bands or ligaments that go across them, and 
they make a sort of ball, on which the other 
bones of the hand move. You see there are 
two rows of these eight bones. Two in the 
lower row (1, 2) are so put together that they 
form a ball, which fits into a hollow place or 
socket (D in the end of the radius, and forms 
the wrist-joint. 

This joint at the wrist is very movable. It 
is also very strong, for it is almost like a hinge- 
joint, the hollow of the radius and the ball ol 
the bone that fits into it, both being very long. 
It has a free motion too, for it turns with the 
radius whenever the radius turns. 



84 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



The other two small bones in the lower row, 
(3, 4,) are connected with the end of the ulna ; 
but they do not make an exact joint with it. 
They roll upon it, and make the motions of the 
hand at the wrist-joint easier. 

E. There are four bones, mother, in the up- 
per row. 

M. Yes, and the one (5) next to the thumb, 
is a pretty large one. It has a socket in which 
the ball of the thumb moves. The second 
bone from this (7) has a long, round head, 
which is jointed with the hollow of the bone 
below (2) ; so that it makes a sort of ball and 
socket joint, by which the upper row of bones 
moves upon the lower row. 

All these eight bones in the two rows, where 
they are joined to each other, are covered with 
smooth gristle, or cartilage, as it is also called. 
This, you know, makes them move easily. 
They are bound firmly together, by a great 
many cross ligaments of different kinds, and 
they make something like one great joint, but 
much more flexible than a single joint would 
be. 

R. Mother, what does flexible mean ? 
M. Can you bend this andiron? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



'85 



R. I cannot ; but I can bend the handle of 
that little whip that lies on the floor. 

M. The handle of the whip is flexible, Rob- 
ert, but the andiron is not. The joints of your 
fore-finger make it very flexible. See in how 
many different ways you can bend it. 

A blade of grass, too, is very flexible. An 
icicle is not flexible. If you try to bend.it, it 
immediately breaks in two. 

R. I think there is no part of my body, 
mother, which is so flexible as my hand and 
fingers. 

M. You see the design of God, my son, in 
making them so. Ten thousand, thousand dif- 
ferent things, which men and women learn to 
do so curiously, so quickly, and so easily, with 
their hands and fingers, could not be done, if 
there were not so many joints and bones mov- 
ing smoothly on each other, and thus making 
the hands and fingers very flexible. 

Look at the picture again, Robert. Above 
the upper row of the eight bones about which 
I have been telling you, you see five long 
bones. 

The bone under the thumb has a large, 
round head, which forms a ball and socket 



86 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



joint (m) with the bone below it, about which 
I told you. 

This gives the thumb a very wide and free 
motion, which, as you may see, from using it 
with your fingers, it was very necessary that 
it should have. 

The other four bones (n) with which the fin- 
gers are jointed, have flat and square heads, 
which set very firmly upon the upper row of 
the eight bones of the wrist. They are bound 
to these bones by ligaments, and move but lit- 
tle upon them. 

The thumb, you see, has but two bones, un- 
less you count the lower bone with a round 
head, which perhaps ought to be done; and 
then the thumb will have three bones and three ' 
joints, just as the fingers have. 

The two upper joints of the thumb and fin- 
gers are hinge-joints ; and these joints are made 
very strong by ligaments on each side of them. 

With the help of these joints we can bend 
and crook the thumb and fingers so as to take 
hold of, or grasp any thing very firmly. And 
we can do this so much the easier and better, 
because the thumb stands out from the fingers 
on one side and is opposite to them. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. -87 

You know how exactly you can put your 
thumb and fingers round your ball, so as to 
hold it very tight. 

How well, too, you can take hold of a rope 
and pull it with your two hands. 

And it would seem as if the thumb and the 
two fingers next to "it were made on purpose to 
write with, and to sew with. What nice mo- 
tions we can make with them, and what very 
fine things we can take hold of and pick up 
with them. 

R. The nails help a good deal, mother, in 
doing that; and so they do in untying hard 
knots. 

M. That is true, my son ; the nails also are 
a very curious and useful part of the hand. 

But I have a little more to tell you about 
the joints of the fingers. 

The lower joints of the fingers, which we call 
the knuckles, are ball and socket joints. The 
hollow place is on the lower part of the finger 
bones which move on the round heads of the 
Dones below them (n.) These joints give the 
fingers very free and easy motions, and enable 
us to separate them from each other, and to 
spread them out like a fan. 



88 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



If the middle joints of the thumb and fingers 
were ball and socket joints, we could not take 
hold of things and clasp around them so firmly 
with our thumb and fingers as we now do. 

They would be as awkward and inconven- 
ient as I told you a ball and socket joint at 
the elbow would be. 

R. Mother, the hand is most curious and 
wonderful indeed. I never thought before, 
that it had so many different parts put to- 
gether just as they are. 

M. And yet, my son, I have not told you 
about many other parts of the arm and hand, 
quite as curious and wonderful. 

I have only told you about the bones and 
joints, and some of the ligaments. 

But from these alone, you see with how 
much skill and goodness God has made the 
arm and hand for your use and comfort. Did 
you ever think how many things you can do 
with your arms and hands, although you are 
but a little boy ? 

R. I know I can do a great many things 
with them, mother. But I can do one .thing 
with my fingers that I have never told you 
about. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



89 



What is that? 

R. I can make the alphabet that the deaf 
and dumb use. A little bo) r taught it to me 
last Saturday afternoon. Here is an engrav- 



ing of it which he gave me. 




8fc 



g 


h 


1 






(i 


{} 




1 


m 



r s 



90 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 




& 



[j is made by raising the little finger, and then describing 
with it in the air a curve line resembling the tail of the j ; 
z is made by raising the fore-finger, and describing with it 
in the air the shape of z. No regard is had to syllables in 
spelling words ; the end of a word is denoted by a hori- 
zontal motion of the hand.l 

M. That is another way in which the hand 
shows the skill and goodness of God. 

What would the deaf and dumb do if they 
could not talk on their lingers? It is curious 
to see with what astonishing quickness they 
can make all the bones and joints of their 
hands move when they spell words. 

They can spell words four times faster than the 
best writer can write them on paper with a pen. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. -91 

E. Mother, what is it that makes the bones 
move on the joints ? The door does not move 
on its hinges, unless you pull it open, or push it 
back again. 

M. I will tell you something about that, my 
son, to-morrow evening. 

Remember what I have already taught you; 
and if you should find that you have forgotten 
any thing, I will tell you about it again. 

Little boys and girls should not only en- 
deavor to understand what is taught them, but 
to remember it too. 



92 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



DIALOGUE VII. 

Robert. Now, mother, please to explain to 
me what it is that makes the bones move on 
the joints. 

Mother. I will, my son ; and you must con- 
tinue to be attentive, and not think about any 
thing only what we are talking about. 

Tie the end of this handkerchief to the knob 
of that door, and open the door a very little. 
Then stand as far as you can from the door 
and hold the other end of the handkerchief in 
your hand. 

Robert does so. 

R. I have, mother ; now what shall I do ? 
M. Pull the handkerchief. 
R. I have, and the door opens further. 
M. You see too, Robert, how it turns on its 
hinges. 

R. I do, mother. 

M. Now shut the door again, but not so as to 
latch it. Tie the loose end of the handkerchief 
to the top of this chair on which I am sitting. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



.93 



Now put your hand on the middle of the 
handkerchief and press it gently down towards 
the floor. 

E. Mother, the door opens just as it did 
before. 




M, Shut it again without latching it. 

Xow take hold of the handkerchief near the 
middle with both your hands, and let your 
hands be a few inches apart. 

R. I have done so, mother. 



94 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. Bring your hands together, so that they 
may touch each other. 

R. I have, and again the door opens. 

M. Well, you see this last time, how the 
handkerchief pulled the door open, because it 
was made shorter by your bringing your hands 
together. One end of it was fastened tight to' 
the chair, and this end did not move because 
the chair was firm in its place. But the other 
end was drawn towards the middle of the 
handkerchief, and drew the door open with it, 
because the door was not latched, but could be 
made to move easily on its hinges. 

R. I understand all this very well, mother, 
but how does it explain the motions of the 
bones on the joints ? 

M. Have a little patience, my son, and you 
will soon see, 

Hand me the handkerchief. I am going to 
tie one end of it round my neck ; and do you 
tie the other round my wrist. 

Mrs. Stanhope and Robert do this. 

M. Now, Robert, take hold of the middle of 
the handkerchief with both your hands, as you 
did before. Put them a little ways apart, and 
then bring them together. 



ON NATURAL TH EOLOG-Y. .95 

R. It raises your liand up, mother, just as 
before it pulled the door open. 

M. Have you ever seen any thing shrink, 
Robert? 

R. Yes, mother ; you know when my mittens 
were wet last winter, and I put them near the 
fire to dry, they shrunk so much that I could 
hardly get them on. . 

M. Well, if there were any way of making 
the handkerchief shrink in the middle, without 
anybody's touching it, it would raise my hand 
up, would it not ? 

R. Yes, I see it would, just as it did when I 
brought my hands together. 

M. There is something very much like this, 
Robert, a kind of fleshy string in your arm, 
that shrinks and pulls your hand up every time 
that you think to raise it, and bend your arm 
at the elbow. This string is fastened to one 
bone above your elbow, and to another bone 
below it. 

R. What is it made of, mother ? 

M. Do you see the fine silken threads in my 
handkerchief? 

R. Yes, mother ; how many of them there 
are, and how close they are together. 



96 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. V[f you should pull out some of these silk- 
en threads, and split each one of them into a 
great many finer threads, a hundred times finer 
than the finest hair in your head, would they 
not be very fine ? 

R. yes, mother, very fine indeed, and so 
fine I do not think I could see them at all. 

M. You might see them, however, by look- 
ing at them through the microscope which I 
showed you the other day. 

R. That instrument, mother, that had so 
many curious glasses in it ? 

M. Yes, my son, and you recollect you 
looked through it at a single hair. 

R. I remember, mother. The hair looked as 
large as a small cord. 

M. Well, you might see the very fine threads 
in the same way ; for the microscope would 
magnify them, that is, make them look a great 
deal larger than they really were. 

R. But a little, fine thread like these, mother, 
would not be strong enough to draw my hand up. 

M. A little patience, Robert. I have a good 
deal to explain to you yet. 

Suppose one of these very fine threads had 
wrapped all round it something very thin, fine, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. .97 

and soft, making a kind of case, or sheath 
for it. 

R. Mother, nobody could see to do that, un- 
less they had eyes like microscopes ; and then 
the thumb and fingers, even of a little infant, 
would be too large and clumsy to take hold of 
such fine things. 

M. Well, you know you can suppose that 
it might be done ; or at least, that God could 
make it so. 

R. yes, mother, for he can make or do 
any thing that he chooses. 

M. Well, my son, God has made such very 
small, fine threads, and such sheaths for them 
as I have been telling you about, and they are 
in your arm, and millions and millions and 
millions of them are in the different parts of 
your body. 

R. But they are not made of silk, mother. 

M. No, Robert, they are made of the same 
thing that your flesh is made of. 

A great many of these very small, fine 
threads, with their sheaths round them, are 
laid right along side of each other, so close 
that it would be exceedingly difficult to sepa- 
rate them with the finest, sharpest penknife 

Nat. Theology. 7 



98 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and then there is one larger case that goes 
around them, keeping them very tight together, 
and making a sort of small bundle of them. 

R. Mother, I should think they would often 
get broken, they are so very small and fine. 

M. No, my son, God has made them so 
curiously, and put them together with so much 
care and skill, that hundreds and thousands of 
people who live to be very old, never have a 
single one of these small, fine threads broken. 

R. Mother, this, I think, is the most wonder- 
ful thing that you have told me about yet. 

M. It is, indeed, very wonderful, Robert; 
but our bodies are all full of wonders. We 
are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

But I have something still more curious to 
tell you about these small, fine threads, and the 
little bundles into which they are made. 

Several of these little bundles of threads are 
laid right along side of each other, or on- the 
top of each other, so as to make a little larger 
bundle. This bundle also has a sheath, or • 
case round it. 

Then, again, several of these larger bundles 
are put together in the same way, making a 
still Lxrger bundle, with its sheath all round it. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



.99 



Sometimes more and sometimes fewer of 
these bundles are thus put together, till they 
make one great bundle. 

This largest bundle of all, made up of the 
smaller ones, is called a muscle, and this also 
has a case, or sheath round it. 

By putting so many of these very small, fine 
threads so closely together in their cases and 
bundles, you see that a very strong muscle is 
made — a great deal stronger to pull with, than 
my handkerchief is. 

R. And is it such a muscle, mother, that 
pulls my hand up when I raise it ? 

M. Yes, my son ; and every motion that you 
can make, in all the different parts of your 
body, when you speak, or eat, or turn your 
eyes and head, or sit down, or get up, or walk, 
or run, or hop, or jump, or climb, or take any 
thing, or carry any thing, or do any thing ; 
every motion that all the people make, in all 
their different kinds of business ; every motion 
that all the beasts and birds and fishes make : 
all these motions are made by the help of mus- 
cles. 

R. Mother. I should like to see a muscle 
very much. 



100 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. You can feel one, Robert, very easily. 

Take hold of the inside of your arm, between 
the elbow and shoulder, and squeeze it with 
your thumb and fingers. 

R. That is my flesh, mother. It is not hard, 
like a bone, but quite soft. 

M. Well, it is the same thing as a muscle ; 
you feel the muscle or bundle that is made up 
of the smaller and still smaller bundles of fine 
threads, with their cases inside of each other. 

Look at this drawing, and you will see some 
of the muscles in the arm and hand. 




Look at this muscle (a.) It is on the inside 
of the arm. It is fastened, near the elbow, to 
a knob of bone on the inside of the shoulder- 
bone. 

You see it goes along down the arm towards 
the wrist. It grows narrower and narrower 
till it looks like the cord (b.) 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



101 



This part, like a cord, is not muscle. It is 
made up of a great many small, fine threads, 
but they are so made and put together, that 
the cord which is made out of them is very dif- 
ferent from a muscle. 

This cord is called a tendon. 

The tendons do not contract or shrink as 
the muscles do. They are much harder and 
firmer than the muscles are. They are very 
tough and strong, and very hard to be broken. 

This tendon (b) looks like a part of the mus- 
cle, and as if it grew out of it. But it does 
not. It is fastened, however, very tight to the 
muscles, and moves whenever the muscle does. 

This tendon, you see, goes quite down to the 
wrist. 

At the wrist it is fastened, on the inside of 
the hand, to the bone that lies directly under 
the lowest bone of the fore-finger. 

The muscle and the tendon, which are firmly 
joined together, you see make one string, the 
two ends of which are fastened tight to two 
bones. These bones have the joint at the wrist 
between them — the joint at the end of the radi- 
us, which I explained to you. 

As soon, then, as the muscle (a) contracts, it 



102 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



pulls the tendon (b) towards the muscle. The 
tendon pulls the bone under the fore-finger the 
same way, and so the hand bends at the wrist- 
joint towards the inside of the arm. 

R. But, mother, when you tied one end of 
the handkerchief round your neck and the other 
round your wrist, to show me how the arm 
moved at the elbow-joint, the handkerchief went 
straight from the wrist to your neck. 

M. I know that, my son. The muscles and 
tendons do not do so ; if they did, they would 
be outside of the arm. 

E. That would look very bad, mother. 

M. Yes, and it would be very inconvenient 
too. 

God has shown us his great wisdom and 
goodness in the way in which he has put to- 
gether the muscles and tendons, and bones and 
joints. There are no less than forty-three mus- 
cles, with their tendons, and thirty bones in 
the arm and hand, besides ligaments and many 
other parts about which I have not had time 
to tell you. Yet all these are packed very 
close together within a small space, and cov- 
ered with the skin, so that we do not see them 
and we cannot touch them. 



OS NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



.103 



They are packed closer a great deal than 
you have seen me pack my clothes in a trunk. 
But they do not get tangled with each other, 
nor rub against each other so as to do any 
harm, nor disturb each other while they are 
moving a great many different ways. 

Who could have done this but He who has 
infinite skill and power and goodness ? God 
alone, the maker and preserver of all things, 
could have done it. 

But before we stop, I wish to explain one 
thing to you. To do it, I will tie one end of 
my handkerchief to the fore-finger of your left 
hand, with the knot on the inside. 

Mrs. Stanhope does so. 

M. Xow. Robert, pull the handkerchief tow- 
ards' your elbow, on the inside of your arm, 
keeping' the handkerchief close to the arm. 

E. Mother, as soon as the wrist bends, the 
handkerchief begins to rise from the arm ; and 
when the wrist is bent as much as it can be. 
the handkerchief is a good way from the arm. 

M. Just so, my son, the tendon (b) would 
spring up, if there were not a ligament, or band, 
at the wrist to keep it down. You see this lig- 
ament (c) and the tendon (b) goes under it. 



104 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK. 



R. Is it not harder, mother, to bend the 
wrist, than if there were no ligament there, and 
the tendon were pulled straight from the hand 
to the elbow ? 

M. Yes, my son; but the muscle is a very 
strong one, and can pull hard enough ; and 
you know how awkward and inconvenient it 
would be to have the muscle and tendon outside 
of the arm. 

But give me your own handkerchief, and let 
me tie it round your wrist. Then my hand- 
kerchief and yours will be just like the tendon 
and band. 

Mrs. Stanhope does so. 

M. Now pull my handkerchief, Robert, just 
as you did before. 

R. It raises the hand, mother, and bends the 
wrist very well, but I have to pull harder. 

M. Very few of the muscles, my son, pul] 
straight. They and their tendons go under 
ligaments, and under and across and around 
other muscles and tendons, and pull a great 
many different ways ; but they have great 
power, and can pull as hard as is necessary. 
If it were not so, how could so many of 
them be put together into your little body, so 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 105 

as to make so many different kinds of mo- 
tions ? 

There are five hundred and twenty-seven 
muscles in your body, and every time that you 
breathe one hundred of these muscles are 
moved. 

E. Mother, I am very much afraid some of 
them will get broken or go wrong. 

M. Why so, my son? God, who had the 
skill and power to make them and put them 
together, did it so perfectly that they get 
broken or go wrong very, very seldom indeed ; 
and then only when some accident happens to 
us, or when we have some disease. 

You need not be afraid to run, hop, and 
jump just as you have always done. That was 
one thing for which your muscles were made. 
And you should be truly thankful to God that 
you can move your limbs so quickly and easily, 
and play so briskly and happily. 

You must soon begin also, as your muscles 
grow stronger, to use them in some kind of 
work. This is another thing that they were 
made for God gave them to us that we might 
be industrious You must learn to be industri- 
ous and to worK with your hands. This is the 



106 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



sure way to have a sound, healthy, and strong 
body, and a cheerful and active mind. Be- 
sides, you do not know how poor you may be, 
so that you will be obliged to work to earn 
money to buy clothes and food, and to take 
care of yourself. 

Little boys that grow up without learning 
at all to work with their hands, although they 
may learn a great deal in books, often become 
quite sick and weak when they are men, and 
so cannot use their knowledge for any good 
purpose. And sometimes they cannot get any 
body to do any thing for them, and they are 
helpless, like little infants, and do not know 
how to do any thing for themselves, and suffer 
a great deal. And sometimes they become 
poor, and cannot earn any money, which they 
might very soon do if they knew how to labor 
with their hands. 

B,. Mother, you know I love to carry in wood 
for the parlor fire, and I will carry it a great 
deal more when I grow older, and saw and 
split it too. 

M. That is right, my son. Be industrious, 
and that will keep you from evil, and be one 
of the surest ways of making you happy. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



107 



DIALOGUE VIII. 

Mother. I have a few tilings vet to tell toil 
Robert, about the muscles, that Trill show you 
still more of the design and skill and goodness of 
God in making them as he has clone. 

Robert. I shall listen to you, mother, very 
attentively. Many things that you tell me are 
a great deal more entertaining than what I 
read in my story books. 

M. I am glad to hear you say so, my son. 
Think, too. how much more useful it is for you 
to learn what is true, and what shows you the 
power and wisdom and goodness of our heav- 
enly Father, than to read stories which are not 
true, and which often have not much in them 
that is improving or useful. But come, we 
must begin to talk about the muscles. 

Tie your handkerchief again to the handle of 
the lock on the door. 

Robert does so. 

M. Xow unlatch the door, and pull it open 
gently by pulling your handkerchief. 



108 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



After you stop pulling the handkerchief does 
the door shut again ? 

R. No, mother, and it will not, unless I push 
it to again. 

M. Suppose I should tie my handkerchief to 
the other handle of the lock, on the outside, 
and I should stand in the entry and pull my 
handkerchief after you had done pulling yours. 

R. You would pull the door to, mother. 

M. Stretch out your arm as far as you can, 
Robert, so as to have your hand just as high 
up from the floor as your shoulder is. 

Robert does so. 

M. Bend your arm at the elbow, so as to 
have your hand touch your breast. 

R. I thought to have done it, mother, and 
you see my hand went to my breast imme- 
diately. 

M. You see it stops there, and does not go 
back again. The muscles inside of your arm, 
about which I have told you, contracted and 
pulled your hand to your breast. But this same 
muscle cannot pull your hand back again, any 
more than your handkerchief, when you stood 
inside of the door, could pull it so as to make 
it shut. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 109 

R. Then, mother, there must be an outside 
muscle on the arm to straighten it again after 
I bend it at the elbow. 

M. You are right, Eobert; there are two 
such muscles, and they are very strong ones. 
For if you will try, you will find that, after 
having bent your arm, you can straighten it 
with a great deal of force. 

If you lift your whole arm up at the' shoul- 
der-joint, and then let it fall down itself, it 
will do so, just as the lid of a trunk does if you 
let go of it after having raised it up. 

But very often, in different kinds of work, 
men want to bring the hand down quickly, and 
so as to strike a hard blow. They want to do 
so when they cut wood, and when they drive 
nails with a hammer. 

The outside muscles of the arm enable them 
to do this, and here again you see the design 
which God had in making these muscles, and 
in placing them just right to pull exactly in 
an opposite direction from that in which some 
other muscles pull. Unless they had pulled 
just in this manner, they would have been of 
no use. 

R. Do you remember, mother, when the two 



110 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



men came to saw wood for us how quick they 
did it ? They had one long saw, with handles 
at each end. and they stood on different sides 
of a stick of wood, and first one man pulled the 
saw towards him, and then the other man pulled 
it towards him, and so they kept pulling it 
backwards and forwards. Do not the muscles 
about which you have been telling me pull in 
some such way ? 

M. They do, my son, and they are called 
antagonist muscles. There are a great many 
of them in our bodies. All the motions of our 
hand and fingers are made with their help, and 
without them most of the motions that we make 
would be very awkward, many of them quite 
useless ; and some motions that we should 
very often want to make, we could not make 
at all. 

E. One thing, mother, about the muscles I 
do not understand. 

M. What is that, my son ? 

R. I understand pretty well how they pull 
the bones whenever they shrink ; but, mother, 
what makes them shrink just exactly when I 
think to have any part of my body move ? 

M. Yes, my son, and what makes them con- 



OF NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



411 



tract slowly or quickly, just as yon think to 
have the motion slow of quick, and then to 
stop contracting just when you wish to have 
the motion stop, and to stop just as long as you 
wish to have them : and then to let the antag- 
onist muscles pull the other way just when you 
think to have them do so ? 

Is not this very wonderful indeed when you 
think how many thousand times your muscles 
do all this, even in one day ? 

R. It is, mother. I think it is the most won- 
derful thing that you have yet told me. Do 
explain it to me. 

Iff. I know hardly any thing about it. Rob- 
ert. The wisest men who have studied about 
it a great deal, are as ignorant as you and I 
are, and cannot explain it. 

All that they know is. that there are a great 
many cords or strings, made up of very fine 
thread, that go from a part of the head called 
the brain, and also from the inside of the back- 
bone, which is filled with something that is 
connected with the brain, all over the body ; 
and that without these cords we could not see, 
nor hear, nor smell, nor taste, nor feel : and 
that without them the muscles would not con- 



112 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



tract, when we wisli any part of the body to 
move. 

R. What are these cords called, mother ? 

M. They are called nerves. They run into - 
the muscles, and alongside of the smaller bun- 
dles and threads of the muscles, so that every 
muscle has a great many of these nerves. 

Now, when you think to have your hand 
bend at the wrist, your thinking somehow or 
other, by the help of the brain, and of the nerves 
which go to the muscle that bends your wrist, 
makes that muscle contract, and immediately 
your wrist is bent. 

How the nerves help to do this, or how they 
make the muscles contract, nobody knows. The 
wisest men only know that it is so ; but of the 
way in which it is done, they are just as igno- 
rant as a little child. 

They have found out that if the nerves belong- 
ing to any muscle are weakened or destroyed 
by sickness or disease, then that muscle will 
not contract as it did before, although the per- 
son thinks and wishes ever so much to have 
that part of the body move which the muscle 
was made to move. 

The nerves do the errand from the mind to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



113 



the muscle, and the muscle will not obey the 
mind unless the nerves are well and strong and 
do the errand faithfully. 

R. God knows, mother, how the nerves make 
the muscles contract. 

M. Yes, my son, for he made them both ; and 
he made them to act together as they do. 

If I had time to explain to you about all the 
nerves in the body, how some go to your eye 
and help you to see, and some to your ear and 
to your 'nose and to your tongue, and help you 
to hear and smell and taste, and a great many 
others to all parts of your body, so that you 
have feeling all over it ; and then how a great 
many others go to all the muscles, and help 
you to make all the different kinds of motions 
that you do, you would wonder still more and 
more at the wisdom and skill and goodness of 
God, and see his design in making all these 
curious parts of your body just as he has made 
them. 

R. Mother, do tell me about some other 
parts of the body. I suppose there are some 
more curious than any you have told me about 
yet. 

M. There are so, Robert ; but I believe you 

Nat. Th-iolotcy. 6 



114 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



must wait till you grow a little older, for then 
you will understand the explanations of the 
different parts of the body much better than 
you can now. 

But I have one thing more to tell you about 
the nerves and muscles, to show you how won- 
derfully God has made them to work together 
for our benefit, 

R. What is that, mother ? 

M. Do you ever know what I mean when I 
do not speak to you ? 

R. Sometimes I can guess what you mean, 
mother, from your looks. I can easily tell 
whether you are glad or sorry, and whether 
you are pleased with me or not. It al- 
ways makes me feel sorry to see you look 
so. 

M. Suppose I should always wear a veil over 
my face, so that you could not see it when. I 
was talking with you. 

R. Oh, I should not like that at all, mother. 
I like to see your eyes move about, and the 
different parts of your face move, and look so 
differently at different times. 

When you tell me stories, or explain things 
to me, I can understand you much better when 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 115 

I see your face and look straight at you in your 
eyes. 

M. That is true, my son ; and I can almost 
always tell whether you have got up a pleasant 
and good boy by your looks, when I first see 
you in the morning. 

And when you was a little infant, you could 
not speak and tell me that you were in pain, 
or felt uneasy, but I knew if you were by look- 
ing at your face. 

And you learned a great deal at that time 
by looking at my face. You could not under- 
stand my words, but you very soon began to 
understand my looks. 

E. 0, mother, do you not remember when 
we were at aunt Mary's, how my little cousin 
Jane would look and look right at her face 
for a great while ? 

M. Yes, my son; and you remember, too, 
that when Jane fretted and cried when nothing: 
was the matter, how your aunt would look a 
little cross at her. and shake her head, and Jane 
would be still almost instantly. 

E. Yes, mother, and often I am more afraid 
of you when you only look at me, than I am 
when you speak to me for doing wrong. 



116 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. And when you are a good boy, and I pat 
you on the cheek and look pleasantly at you, 
how do you feel then ? 

R. I feel very happy, mother ; I like to see 
your looks then ; it almost seems as if you were 
speaking to me, and saying that you love me 
for being a good boy. 

But I know another time, mother, when your 
looks did me a great deal of good. 

M. When was that ? 

R. When I was so sick on my little bed, and 
you had to send for the doctor. You sat by 
me and took hold of my hand, and looked as if 
you felt sorry for me, and wished to do every 
thing to make me better. I think your looks 
really did me a great deal of good. 

M. And you remember too, Robert, what a 
kind man the doctor was. 

R. Oh, yes; he looked very kindly at me, 
and that too made me feel better, and hope I 
should get well. Mother, I think doctors should 
take a great deal of care always to look pleas- 
antly and kindly when they go to see people 
who are sick. 

M. We should all of us, my son, try to look 
pleasantly and kindly at all times, and then we 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 117 

shall both make others happier and feel more 
happy ourselves. 

The doctor, too, is often able to learn a great 
deal from the looks of the persons who are sick, 
when he sees them the first time ; and to tell, 
when he sees them afterwards, whether they 
are getting better or worse. 

R. Mother, I never knew before how useful 
it is to have our faces look so many different 
ways, and show what we think and what we 
feel. 

M. God knew, my son, how necessary it 
would be for our comfort that it should be so, 
and you see how curiously, and with what won- 
derful design and skill he has made the differ- 
ent parts of the face, and the muscles and nerves, 
which help these parts to move in so many dif- 
ferent ways. 

R. Mother, are there a good many muscles 
to move our eyes and all the different parts of 
our face ? 

M. There are, my son, and by their help we 
can look almost, if not quite, as many different 
ways as we can think or feel. 

How many different ways a little child moves 
his mouth and lips when he feels pleasant or 



118 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



unpleasant, kind or cross, mild or angry, patient 
or impatient, contented or fretful, when he 
smiles, or laughs, or pouts, or cries. 

How many different ways too he moves his 
mouth and lips when he breathes and speaks 
and chews and swallows. 

To open and move the mouth and lips in all 
the different ways that we can, a number of 
muscles are necessary. Now, when one of these 
pulls one way, you know there must be another 
muscle to pull back again the other way, which 
you recollect I told you is called an antagonist 
muscle. 

R. I hardlv see, mother, how there can be 
room for so many different muscles, and the an- 
tagonist muscles too, about the mouth and lips. 

M. The truth is, Robert, there is only one 
antagonist muscle, which is so curiously made 
and placed that it can pull all sorts of ways, so 
as to pull back all the other muscles by itself 
alone. 

R. Where is it placed, mother ? 

M. It is all round the mouth, about an inch 
in breadth. It is the thick, fleshy part of the 
lips. It lies in the red part of the lips, and it 
is fastened at the two corners of the mouth. 



0\ NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



119 



Its use' is to be an antagonist muscle to a great 
many others that move the mouth and lips, and 
to shut up the- mouth so tight, if you blow ever 
so hard, it can keep the breath in your mouth. 

R. How far it can be stretched, mother, and 
then how small it can contract itself. 

M. Yes, it is both a very elastic and a very 
strong muscle. It is round, for a straight mus- 
cle could not have pulleA so many different 
ways, and it is placed just where a round mus- 
cle was wanted. It helps too to form part of 
the mouth and lips, and there are a good many 
letters and words which we could not speak if 
we did not have this curious muscle. 

R. How many, many different things had to 
be made and exactly put together, mother, to 
make our bodies just what they should be. 

M. That is true, my son ; I might keep on ex- 
plaining to you, even about the muscles alone, 
and every one of them would show you the 
wonderful design and contrivance and skill 
and great goodness, too, of the almighty Being 
who made us. 

But we have talked enough, for this time. 1 
shall tell you a little more about the muscles 
and nerves this evening. 



120 



THE YOUTH'S BOOIT 



DIALOGUE IX. 

Robert. Is there any other round muscle, 
mother, besides the one that goes round the 
mouth ? 

Mother. Yes, there is one that goes all 
round the eye. It lies directly under the skin 
of the upper and lower eyelids, and is very flat 
and thin. It is fastened to a little knob on 
the upper jawbone, quite in the inner corner 
of the eye close to the nose. If you put your 
finger carefully there, you will feel the tendon 
which fastens it like a little knot. 

It goes from this tendon over the upper eye- 
lid, round the outer corner of the eye, over the 
lower eyelid, and so back again to the tendon. 

This curious little muscle helps us to shut up 
the eye, which you know we often want to do ; 
and if any thing gets into the eye, it squeezes 
very hard, and often squeezes it out. 

When persons weep, it is this muscle too 
which presses the ball of the eye down and' 
squeezes something like a small piece of spongy 
flesh that makes the tears, and they flow out. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



121 



R. Mother, it seems to make me feel easier, 
sometimes, to weep. 

M. Yes, my son, fhere are times when our 
pain or our sorrow causes us to weep, and it 
is a great relief to us to shed tears. 

God knew that it would be so, and he made 
this curious muscle and the small piece of spongy 
flesh which is called a gland, and the other parts 
of the eye, so that we might get this relief. 

I knew a lady who could not shed a tear, 
even when she was in the greatest pain or sor- 
row. The gland which makes the tears had 
been destroyed by severe sickness; and al- 
though she often tried to weep, and strained 
the muscle about which I have been telling 
you as hard as she could, she could not shed a 
single tear. She told me she did not know, 
before that severe sickness, how exceedingly 
distressing it was never to be able to weep. 
She said, how much she would give to be 
able to weep sometimes ! ^ 

A friend of mine was acquainted with a gen- 
tleman in England who could not open his 
right eye, unless he raised the eyelid with his 
fingers. This was quite an affliction to him. 
His right eye was perfectly sound, and when 



122 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the eyelid was raised he could see as well with 
that eye as with the other. 

E. What was the reason of that, mother ? 

M. The muscle which lifts up the eyelid, 01 
the nerve which helps the muscle to move, was 
weakened or destroyed. 

So you see how much your comfort depends 
upon all these muscles and nerves, even the 
smallest of them, which God has so curiously 
made and put together, and which he so kindly 
keeps in perfect order. 

Watches, you know, often get quite out of 
order ; and even the very best of them will not 
always go exactly right. We are obliged to 
send them to a skilful watchmaker and have 
them put in order again. 

Now, our bodies are made up of a thousand 
and thousand times more parts than a watch 
has, and much more curious parts too, more 
difficult to put together, and to have them all 
fit each other and always go right. 

R. Mother, I think no parts of a watch are any 
thing like so curious as the muscles and nerves. 

M. That is true, my son ; and when we con- 
sider how perfectly all the parts of our body 
are made and put together for the thousand dif- 



Oy NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



123 



ferent uses for wliicli they were designed, and 
still more, that in most persons they keep on 
going exactly right, what is the contrivance and 
skill of the man who makes a watch, to that of 
the Creator and Preserver of our bodies ? 

K. I wonder people do not think more of 
this, mother. 

M. It is, indeed, not only wonderful, my son, 
but it shows how stupid and ungrateful they are. 

How thankful most persons would be if any 
body should give them a beautiful gold watch 
that cost a hundred dollars, and was one of 
the best that could be made. 

They would be often looking at it, and ad- 
miring it, and showing it to others, and talk- 
ing about it, and feeling very thankful to the 
kind friend who gave it to them. 

Our arm and hand is a vastly more wonder- 
ful and useful instrument to us than the dearest 
and best watch would be, and yet, how seldom 
we think of this, or talk about it, and feel 
grateful to our kind heavenly Father, who 
made this part, and all the parts of our bodies 
for our use and comfort. 

R. Mother. I think about it a good deal. 

M. I hope you will continue to do so. my 



124 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



son, and to feel more and more thankful to 
God, for all his goodness to you. 

R. Mother, you have been telling me about 
many of the muscles in the face ; I should 
think there must be a great many nerves to go 
with them, and to help them to act. 

M. There are so, Robert, and here is a 
drawing in which you will see a good many of 
them. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 125 

R. Mother, this side of the face is full of 
them ; are there as many on the other side ? 

M. Just as many exactly, and they go in dif- 
ferent directions, just as these do. 

R. Do they all do the same thing ? 

M. No, my son, some of them go to the eyes, 
that we may see ; and some to the ears, that 
we may hear ; and some to the nose, that we 
may smell ; and some to the tongue, that we 
may taste ; and some to the mouth and lips 
and throat, that we may eat and swallow and 
speak ; a good many go to all parts of the face, 
so that we may feel if any thing hurt us, and 
put it away, or if the face is wounded or in- 
jured, take care of it : some of the nerves go 
to muscles and help them to move, even if we 
do not think to have them move ; and most of 
these, and some others also, tell the muscles to 
move whenever we wish to have them do so. 

R. How do muscles move, mother, when we 
do not think to have them move ? 

M. Does a little child think to draw in the 
air and blow it out again every time that he 
breathes ? 

R. No, mother, and you do not, nor 1. But 
I can stop breathing, if I choose. 



126 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. Yes, for a very little while. But if you 
were to try to do so long, you would find that 
you would soon have to breathe again, in spite 
of yourself. 

R. You told me, mother, that a hundred 
muscles are moved every time that we breathe? 

M. I did so ; and you see that not only one 
muscle, but a hundred, are moved continually 
without our thinking to have them move. 

R. But what is the use, mother, in having 
any of the muscles of the face move, if we do 
not think to have them move ? 

M. Did you ever wink your eyes, without 
thinking of doing it ? 

R. Yes, mother, a great many times. They 
keep winking constantly* Why do they keep 
winking so ? 

M. You remember, I told you about the tears, 
and about that something like a small piece of 
spongy flesh, called a gland, which makes the 
tears. 

Tears are very useful for something more than 
to give us relief by weeping. They moisten the 
eye, and keep it clean and smooth, so that it 
moves easily. 

The tears keep coming all the while from the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY 



127 



gland, through a great many small tubes which 
run in the upper eyelid, and they are spread 
by the motion of this eyelid and the lower one, 
when they wink, all over the forepart of the 
eye. 

If more tears come than are needed to moisten 
and to clean the eye. they are carried through 
two very little holes in the eyelids to a small 
bag near the inside corner of the eye. and then 
through a hole in the bone, as large as a goose- 
quill, to the inside of the nose. 

They are then spread over the inside of the 
nostril, and the warm air that is all the while 
passing up and down as we breathe, dries them 
up almost instantly. 

But there is another reason why your eyelids 
wink of themselves. It is to keep off any thing 
that may becoming too near to the eye to hurt 
it — any little insect, or any little particles of 
dust. The eyelashes, too, were made for the 
same purpose. 

Bo that you see in how many different ways 
God has taken care that the eye should be kept 
in order, and be kept safe from injury. 

But this is not one hundredth part of what 
is most curious and wonderful, that I could 



128 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



tell you about the eye. You shall read all about 
it when you grow older, jand are better able to 
understand" it. For some things about it, it 
would be very difficult indeed, if not impos- 
sible, for you to understand now. 

R. When I grow a few years older, I mean 
to study all about the different parts of the 
body, if you will let me. 

M. I shall have no objection, my son, espe- 
cially if you should be a physician ; but you 
must be very industrious, and learn a good many 
other things first. 

R. Mother, I want to ask you one question 
about the nerves. 

M. Do, my son, as many as you choose. 

R. You have showed me a drawing of the 
nerves which go all over the face. Do all 
these nerves help us to look so very differently 
at different times ? 

M. No, my son, it is only one set of them 
which is principally concerned in doing this. 
You see the branch of nerves which is just be- 
fore the ear (a.) (See page 124.) That is the 
one which, somehow or other, makes the mus- 
cles move that draw the parts of the face, when 
we look so differently at different times. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



129 



Those different looks are called expressions^ 
and when a person has them often, and so as 
to show strongly what he means or what he 
feels, we say he has an expressive countenance. 

R. Mother, I like to see an expressive coun- 
tenance, for then I can understand people 
much better. 

M. That is true, Robert. The expressions 
of the countenance seem to be the very coming- 
out of the soul. 

Many animals, you know, have no such ex- 
pressions of face at all; and none of them 
have any thing like the different kinds, the 
beauty, the strength, and the meaning which 
the expressions of the human face have. 

R. Mother, a dog sometimes has meaning in 
his face. 

M. He has, Robert, but only think how 
much more a human face has. 

A dog expresses a very few things by his 
face. A man can express, how many dif- 
ferent kinds of thoughts and feelings in his 
countenance. 

If you will examine the faces of different 
animals, you will see considerable difference in 
their expressions. Some, you know, have a 

N»t. Theology. 9 



130 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



cross look, and others a pleasant and kind 
look. Some, too, seem to have much more 
meaning in their faces than others. 

But after all, none of them can express such 
a variety of thoughts and feelings in their 
faces, as we can in ours. 

When you take a walk, look attentively at 
the faces of different animals, and compare 
their expressions with the countenances of 
men, women, and children, and you will see 
how much truth there is t in what I have been 
telling you. 

Here is a picture of a human face and of a 
dog's. See how much more of soul there is in 
the former, than in the latter. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 131 




R. I have often been amused, mother, to see 
the deaf and dumb talking with each other, 
they have so many different kinds of expres- 
sions in their countenances. 

M. If they had not, my son, they could not 
understand each other as well as they do ; and 
they could not understand each other at all, 
about some things. 

R. I should think, mother, their teachers 
would sometimes grow very tired, they have 
to make so many different kinds of expressions 
of countenance. 

M. I dare say they do ; but without all these 
different expressions, it would be quite impos- 
sible to teach the deaf and dumb the meaning 



132 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

of a great many words ; so that they would not 
be able to learn how to read and write. 

R. God has been very kind to them, mother, 
in making so many muscles and nerves for "the 
face, to give it expression. 

M. He has, my son ; and this, I think, is the 
most wonderful part of the human body, and 
shows more than any other the design, the 
contrivance, the skill, and the goodness of 
God. 

When you see the picture of Abraham offer- 
ing up Isaac, in the parlor, do you think it could 
have been made by chance ? 

R. No, mother. Chance sometimes makes 
something like trees and houses on the panes 
of glass in the winter, when they are covered 
with frost ; but I know that chance could never 
make any thing at all like that picture of Abra- 
ham and Isaac. 

M. It is not proper, Robert, to say that 
chance makes even the little trees and houses 
on the windows in winter. It is God who 
makes the cold and the frost, just so as to have 
the glass covered with all the different shapes 
of things that you see. 

If you were to take a handful of little pins, 



N NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



133 



and throw them up in the air over the table, 
and they should fall down upon it into beauti- 
ful shapes of houses and trees and animals, 
that might be said to happen by chance. 

R. It could never happen so, mother. 

M. If once in a hundred times, Robert, one 
shape should look a little like a house or a 
tree, or once in ten thousand times throwing 
them up, one should look like an elephant, you 
would wonder at it very much. 

R. I should, mother ; but I do not wonder 
at merely seeing a picture, because I know a 
painter made it. 

M. But do you not wonder at the skill .of 
the painter, in giving such fine and meaning 
expressions to the countenances of Abraham 
and Isaac ? 

R. I do, mother, it has made me weep some- 
times to look at it. 

M. Now think, Robert, how long the painter 
had to be learning; how much he had to no- 
tice the human countenance; and how many 
pictures he had to draw, and how he had to 
keep slowly improving himself, till at last he 
was able to draw the picture which you know 
every body admires so much. 



134 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



E. Did it take him a year to do all this, 
mother ? 

M. Yes, my son, many years; and I dare 
say, if he could see the picture now, he could 
show you some things in it that he could make 
better. 

Then think, that in making this picture, he 
had first to design it — how he would draw 
Abraham and Isaac, and how he would make 
them look. He had, too, to prepare all his 
paints of many different colors, and his brushes 
of different sizes, very nicely; and when he 
began to draw, he had to do it very carefully, 
and often to stop and think; and he had to 
put on a little more paint in one place and 
in another, or some of a different color, be- 
fore he could get it to suit him; and then 
he had to go back from the drawing and 
look at it, and make some more alterations; 
and after working in this slow and patient 
way for a long time, he had to ask some 
friends to look at it, and to tell him if it had 
any faults; and then he had to go to work 
again, and try to remove these faults ; and so, 
after months of thought and labor, he made the 
beautiful picture which you how see. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 135 

If this picture shows you, from the design 
and contrivance and skill which appear in it, 
that it must have been made by some one, and 
by a painter who had a great deal of design 
and contrivance and skill, what must we think 
when we see so many hundreds and thousands 
of human countenances, and even those of little 
children, having so many different and fine ex- 
pressions ? 

R. We cannot but think, mother, that some 
one made them and gave them these expres- 
sions. We know that God did it, and that his 
design and skill and contrivance in doing it, 
were very, very great indeed. 

M. Yes, my son, and there is one thing in 
which the human countenance far, far exceeds 
that drawn by the most skilful painter. 

R. What is that, mother ? 

M. The painter can give the face that he 
draws but one single expression, and that re- 
mains always the same. 

But the human face has the power of chang- 
ing its expressions as quick as we can think 01 
feel. 

Should the painter wish to give a new ex- 
pression to the face which he has drawn, he 



136 



THE YOUTH S BOOK 



must work at it again ; or what is more prob- 
able, lie must draw a new one. 

The motion of a few nerves and muscles in 
an instant gives new expressions to our faces, 
and speaks before we can think of it the lan- 
guage of our souls. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



IS7 



DIALOGUE X. 

Mother. I have something more to say to 
you, my son, of the curious and wonderful way 
in which God has made our faces, so that they 
can speak the language of our souls. 

Robert. Mother, have the beasts such mus- 
cles and nerves as we have, to give expression 
to their faces? 

M. That was one thing which I am going to 
tell you. Some of them have some muscles and 
nerves in their faces, like ours ; but none of 
them as manv, and most of them have very few 
indeed. 

R. That is the reason, I suppose, mother, 
why they have so little meaning in their faces. 

M. It is one reason. Besides, you know they 
have no soul like ours. They do not think and 
feel as we do. They have no feelings about 
what is right and wrong. But even if they 
had a soul like ours, it could not show itself, its 
thoughts, and its feelings, on their faces, as our 
souls do, because they have not the muscles and 



133 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



nerves that are necessary to give all kinds of 
expression to the face. 

R. I am very glad, mother, that God has 
made our faces so different from those of the 
beasts. 

M. Yes, my son, and if it were not so, only 
think how stupid and dull we should all look. 

The little infant would not, as it does now, 
delight to look and look at its mothers face, 
and there first begin to learn that its mother 
loves it dearly, is glad when it is happy, and 
is sorry when it is in pain. 

And the little infant would not learn the 
meaning of a great many words which are 
spoken to it, if the looks of the person who 
speaks to it did not help it to understand the 
meaning of the words. 

If the little infant, too, did not smile and 
weep, and look happy, and look troubled, how 
difficult it would often be for the mother to 
know when it was well or sick, easy or in 
pain. 

How could parents govern their children, if 
they did not show by their eye, and by their 
looks, when they are pleased, and when they 
are displeased ; and when they really mean 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 139 

that the children shall do just as they are told 
to do? 

B,. Mother, you know I went to school a 
little while, when you took a short journey. 

M. I remember it ; but what then ? 

R. The master said hardly any thing at all 
to make the scholars mind him. <But he kept 
looking about all the while ; and his eye, and 
his looks, and a little shake of his head, and 
sometimes of his finger, kept the whole school 
in order. 

M. It would be well, my son, if all who keep 
school would learn to do as he did. 

Here, you see, is another very important pur- 
pose for which God made the human face to 
have so many different kinds of expression, 
that one person might be the better able to 
govern others. 

And if our faces did not have these differ- 
ent kinds of expression, how difficult it would 
often be for us to know whether others felt 
happy to see us happy, or sorry to see us 
sorry. 

To feel so is called sympathy, and when per- 
sons feel so, we say that they sympathize with 
us. How miserable we should be, if no one ever 



140 



1 HE YOUTH'S BOOK 



sympathized with, us when we are in trouble. 
And if we are ever so happy, who wishes to be 
happy ail alone ? 

Suppose when your aunt comes to see you, 
after not having seen you for a long time, and 
shakes hands with you, and kisses you, her face 
should have* no more expression than that of 
your sister's little doll. 

R. I should not think the kiss was worth 
much, mother. 

M. Or, suppose when the doctor came to see 
you, he had looked as if he did not feel at all 
sorry that you were sick, but only came to tell 
what must be done for you, just as you some- 
times tell Tray to go and drive the ducks away 
from the kitchen door. 

R. I am afraid, mother, it would have made 
me more sick. 

M. Well, so I could go on, Robert, to tell 
you of a great many other ways in which it is 
very important and useful and pleasant that 
our faces should have many different kinds of 
expression ; and that if they did not, we should 
feel very uncomfortable, and often miserable, 
in seeing and talking with our fellow-men. 

And if different faces had not different looks, 



UN NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



141 



do you think we could always tell one person 
from another ? 

R. TTe might some persons, mother, because 
their faces are larger, or smaller, or lighter, or 
darker, or are shaped differently. 

M. That is true : but I think there are but 
few that we should always know in these ways. 

Almost every body has some looks and ex- 
pressions which belong to himself, which he 
commonly has, and which others do not have, 
or not so commonly as he has. 

It is this which principally helps us to know 
the same person at all times, and to know 
different persons, so as not to mistake one for 
another. 

Did you ever think how many mistakes we 
should be constantly making, and how much 
trouble and confusion there would be, if we could 
not very soon tell one person from another? 

R. I never did, mother, but I see it now. 
People then would look to us just as a flock of 
sheep do, a great many of them exactly alike. 

M. Yes, my son ; and thus you see that there 
is still another important reason why God has 
given so many different looks and expressions 
to human faces ; and in doing it, he shows you 



142 



THE TOUTH'S BOOK 



his wonderful design, contrivance, skill, and 
goodness. 

R. It is indeed wonderful, mother, that while 
there are thousands and millions of people in 
the world, hardly any two of them look exactly 
alike. It is strange that I never thought 01 
this before. 

M. It is so common a thing that we do not 
think of it. But it is not the less wonderful, 
because it is common. Often the most com- 
mon things show us most of the wisdom and 
goodness of God, and this is one of them. 

How wonderful. Here is a soul or spirit 
within us, not like any thing that we can see, 
or hear, or smell, or taste, or touch, but wholly 
unlike it. This soul is in a body made up of a 
thousand curious different parts. These parts 
are made and put together so as to be exactly 
suited to each other, and to the whole body. 
Nothing is in the wrong place ; and nothing 
goes wrong, unless the body is sick, or is hurt. 

All this is done that the body may eat and 
drink and sleep and live — just as the bodies 
of beasts do? Oh, no. This curious body is made 
and kept alive, and all its parts, in order that 
it may be a proper and convenient body for 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY . 143 



the soul to be in, and use for its own improve- 
ment and comfort and happiness, and for that 
of others. 

For our very bodies are so made as to show 
us that God designed that we should live and 
act not for ourselves alone, but for others ; and 
that we should do all we can to make each 
other good and happy. 

The muscles and nerves of the face are one 
very striking proof of this. 

You have seen what some of them were 
made for, to give expression to the face, and 
for this purpose only. 

How wonderful ; the soul, that immaterial 
something within us, showing its secret thoughts 
and feelings on a part of our material body, by 
the help of a great many curious nerves and 
muscles, that move the face in a thousand dif- 
ferent ways ; sometimes when we think to have 
them move so, and sometimes when we do not. 

This soul thus shows its thoughts and feel- 
ings, that they may be seen .and understood and 
felt by other souls like itself, dwelling in other 
bodies like the body in which it dwells. 

And thus these souls are the better able to 
know each other, to converse with each other, 



144 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



to sympathize with each other, to aid each other, 
and to make each other good and happy. 

Who but the infinite and eternal Mind, the 
great Spirit whom we call God, could have so 
made our souls and bodies, and given these 
wonderful powers of expression to our faces ? 

Who that looks on the human face can doubt, 
for one moment, that there is a God of great 
power and wisdom and skill and goodness ? 

R. I am sure I cannot, mother, and I do not 
think that any body else can. 

M. You see, my son, not only the design and 
contrivance and skill of God in having made 
your face as he has, but his goodness also, in 
making its various expressions the means of 
your own happiness and of that of others. 

Remember how ungrateful you are for all this 
goodness, and what a bad use you make of your 
curious and wonderful countenance, when you 
think and feel wrong, and these wrong thoughts 
and feelings show themselves in your counte- 
nance, and thus make yourself even more unhap- 
py, and others unhappy too, in looking at you. 

R. Mother, you know the man that struck 
me in the street one day; what an ugly look- 
ing face he has. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



145 




M. Yes, and do you learn from it not to 
have any wrong thoughts and feelings. He has 
been so often angry and in a great rage, that 
now he looks angry almost all the time. He 
can hardly look pleasant if he tries. 

R. How different uncle John looks, mother, 




146 



THE YOUTH'S BOOli 



M. And why, Robert? Because he has for 
a long time had kind and benevolent feelings, 
desiring to love and obey God, and to do good 
to others ; peaceful and happy himself, and 
delighted to make and to see others so. 

Do you endeavor to feel and to do so. Pray 
to God to enable you to feel and to do so. 
Never even think of saying any thing that is not 
true. Be frank, and tell what you know when- 
ever you ought to tell it ; and if at any time 
persons ask you to tell them things which you 
ought not to tell them, refuse to do it mildly 
but firmly. Strive against all wrong thoughts 
and feelings. Endeavor to have kind and gen- 
erous ones. Seek to make others happy. Above 
all, love, fear, and obey God, and looking to 
him for help, endeavor to do your duty. Then 
be afraid of nothing and of nobody. 

When you are speaking to others, look them 
full in the face. Do not try to hide your feel- 
ings ; let them show themselves in your coun- 
tenance. Let your eye and your countenance 
have all the expression which your feelings 
would give. 

Do all this. Try to do it. And your face 
will acquire habits of expression that will make 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



M7 



you feel happy yourself, and increase the hap- 
piness of others. 

In this way you will best show your thank- 
fulness to God for giving you the power of 
expression in your countenance, and you will 
make that use of this power which will do the 
most good to yourself and to others. 

R. Mother, will you be so good as to tell me 
when I have any cross or unpleasant looks, so 
that I may try to look differently. 

11. I am glad to hear you ask me to do that, 
my son ; but have right thoughts and feelings, 
and there will be but little danger of your face 
ever having unpleasant expressions. 

But dinner is ready, and we must stop talk* 
ing. 



148 



THE YOUTH S BOOK 



DIALOGUE IX. 

Robert. Mother. I have been to see an ele 
phant this morning. Uncle John took me. 

Mother. It was very kind in him to do so 
And what do you think of the elephant, Rob 
ert ? Does this picture look like his head ? 



OX NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



H9 



R. Yes, exactly. He is a very wonderful 
animal, mother. I thought at first he looked 
very ugly and frightful, he was so large and 
heavy and clumsy ; I was a good deal afraid of 
him. But pretty soon, vrhen the keeper spoke 
to him and told him to do some things, I found 
that he was very gentle and kind, and that he 
was not so awkward as I at first thought he 
was. He could not do much though, if he had 
not that long trunk. 

M. That long trunk, Robert, is one more 
very striking proof of the design and contriv- 
ance and skill of our heavenly Father. 

He has taken care, in a great variety of 
ways, to provide for the wants and for the 
comfort of beasts and birds and fishes and 
insects, as well as for ours. And as the end for 
which he made them is very different from that 
for which he made us, so he has given them 
bodies different from ours, and bodies exactly 
suited to the different places and ways in which 
they live. 

R. Yes, mother, how different a bird is made 
from a fish. 

M. True, my son, and how many different 
kinds of birds there are, and in many things 



150 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



how different they are made from each other, 
so as to be suited to their different ways of 
living, and to the country and to the climate in 
which they live. 

Just so it is with beasts also. There are a 
great many different kinds, and each kind has 
something peculiar to itself to lead us to ad- 
mire the wisdom and power and goodness of 
God. 

R. The elephant, mother, has something very 
peculiar indeed, that long trunk of his. 

M. Yes, and the elephant has great need 
of his trunk. He would be very helpless with 
out it. 

The neck of four-footed animals is usually 
long, in proportion to the length of their legs, 
so that they may be able to stoop down and 
reach their food on the ground without diffi- 
culty. 

R. Mother, I should think some animals 
would get very tired, holding their heads down 
as long as they do to get their food. 

M. It would be so, my son, but God has pro- 
vided something to prevent this difficulty. 

There is a tough, strong, tendon-like strap, 
braced from their head to the middle of the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 151 

back, which supports the weight of the head ; 
so that although it is large and heavy, it may 
be held down long without any pain or un- 
easiness. 

We do not have this strap, because we do 
not need to bend our head in the same way as 
beasts do. Our heads are sufficiently support- 
ed without it. 

God provides such things only when they are 
necessary, and this shows how he has design 
in every thing that he makes. 

The elephant, as you saw, is a very tall ani- 
mal, and his head is a good way from the 
ground ; and yet his neck is very short, so that 
he cannot, without kneeling or lying down, 
bring his mouth to the ground. 

This short neck, so different from that of 
other animals whose heads are far from the 
ground, has one great advantage : it makes it 
so much the easier for the elephant to support the 
weight of his very large head and heavy tusks. 

But somehow or other the difficulty of hav- 
ing so short a neck, especially in getting food 
and drink, was to be remedied. And the ad- 
mirable trunk which God designed and made 
on purpose for the elephant, removes entirely 



152 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



all this difficulty. Still more, it has many ad- 
vantages, and very great ones too] over the 
long necks of other animals. 

R. I saw the elephant do some things with 
his trunk, mother, which other animals could 
not- do with their long necks and teeth and 
paws all together. 

But do tell me a little more particularly about 
the trunk. Is it bone, or flesh, mother ? 

M. It is not bone, my son ; it is a hollow 
fleshly tube made of muscles and nerves, and 
covered with a skin of a blackish color, like 
that of the rest of the body. 

R. There must be a great many muscles in 
it, I should think, mother, or the elephant could 
not make so many different kinds of motions 
with it. 

M. You are right, Robert. Mr. Cuvier, a 
very learned man in France, who knew a great 
deal, and who wrote several curious books about 
the different kinds of animals, tells us that he 
has found there are more than thirty thousand 
distinct muscles in the trunk of an elephant! 

R. Oh, mother, if he was not a good man, I 
should almost think he says what is not true. 

M. There is no reason, my son, to doubt the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



153 



truth, of what he tells us. There are some 
things even more wonderful than this in some 
little insects. 

There is a small kind of caterpillar that has 
four thousand muscles in its little body. 

But there is something about the eyes of 
some insects yet more wonderful. 

A common fly, such as we see about the house, 
does not move its eyes as we do. They are 
fixed fast in its head and do not turn. But this 
difficulty is remedied by a very curious contriv- 
ance. Each eye is made up of a great many 
little eyes ; something like what you have seen 
in the stopple of a decanter, so that when you 
look through it, you seem to see a great many 
of the same kind of thing. 

These little eyes are hemispheres, or half- 
balls, and they are so placed that they look dif- 
ferent ways ; so that the fly can look about, 
sometimes through one and sometimes through 
another, and see nearly if not quite as well as 
we can with our eyes. 

In the two eyes of a common fly, there are 
eight thousand such smaller eyes. In the two 
eyes of the dragon-fly, there are twenty-five 
thousand such smaller eyes. 



154 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Each of these smaller eyes in the large eye 
of the fly, and of the dragon-fly, sees perfectly 
of itself in one direction, and is made up of 
still smaller parts, and has nerves to give it 
the power of sight* 

What must be the fineness of these smaller 
parts, and nerves ! 

Here is a picture of a very small part of the 
large eye of a dragon-fly, greatly magnified. 




R. How was all this found out, mother ? 

M. By the help of very powerful microscopes, 
which magnify things, and make them look mill- 
ions of times larger than they really are. 

With one kind of microscope that I have 
seen, a little insect was magnified five hundred 
and seventy millions of times. 



ON NATURAL T HEOLOGrY . 155 

E. Well, I do not doubt any longer, mother, 
that there are thirty thousand muscles in the 
trunk of an elephant. 

And how many nerves there must be to help 
all these muscles to move, whenever the ele- 
phant wishes to have them move. 

M. Yes, my son ; and it has been found out 
that the trunk alone has as many nerves as all 
the rest of the body has. 

It is the number, the fineness, and the variety 
of these nerves, that enable the trunk to do all 
the curious things that it was made to do. 

An elephant that is fourteen feet high has a 
trunk about eight feet long, and five feet and 
a half round at its thickest part, next the 
head. 

This trunk, as you saw, can be made shorter 
or longer as the animal chooses, and can be 
moved with great ease in every possible direc- 
tion. 

It has such prodigious strength that the ele- 
phant can quickly knock a man down with it. 
and can pull up a tree of moderate size by the 
roots, and break off the largest branches, and 
raise very heavy weights. 

On the under-side there are some things like 



156 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



little claws, or like the feet of a caterpillar, 
which take hold of what the elephant wishes 
to grasp, and help to hold it faster ; and at the 
end of the trunk the skin is lengthened about 
five inches, in the form of a finger. With this 
finger he can pick up a pin from the ground, 
or the smallest piece of money ; he can select 
herbs and flowers, and take them one by one ; 
he can untie knots ; he can open and shut gates, 
by turning the keys, or pushing back the bolts ; 
and with this finger an elephant has been taught 
to make regular marks like letters, with an 
instrument as small as a pen. 

In the middle of the finger there is a hollow 
place like a cup, and in the bottom of the cup 
are two holes or nostrils, through which the 
animal smells and breathes. 

By placing the edge of the end of his trunk 
on the surface of any heavy thing, and then 
suddenly drawing in his breath, so as to get 
all the air out of the inside of the trunk, the 
thing he wishes to raise will stick fast to the 
end of the trunk, and he can lift it up easily. 

R. Mother, I wonder if this is not something 
like what the boys call a sucker ? 

M. What is that, Robert? 



OH NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



157 



R. Did you neYer see one. mother? They 
take a round piece of pretty soft leather and 
fasten a stout piece of twine to the middle of 
it. Then the leather is soaked in water, and 
put on the top of a large, heavy stone and 
pressed down on it very hard with the foot. 
The boy pulls up the string, the leather rises 
up a little in the middle, but all round the edges 
it sticks very tight to the stone, and the stone 
is lifted up eYer so high without falling off 
from the leather. 

But if the edge of the leather is pulled up 
ever so little, it will come off from the stone, 
and the string will not raise the stone. 

Mother, what is the reason of this ? I do not 
understand it at all. 

M. I do not know that I can explain it ex 
actly to you. but I will try. 

The air that we breathe, and which is all 
round us, has weight. It is all the while press- 
ing with equal weight in all directions. When 
you are standing, the air presses against the 
forepart of your body and against the sides and 
against your back with equal weight. 

On every square inch, it presses with a weight 
equal to fifteen pound-. 



158 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



On the whole body of a man it presses with 
a weight equal to twenty or thirty thousand 
pounds. 

If the air pressed upon you only on the top 
of your head, it would crush you down to the 
ground instantly. If it pressed only on the 
forepart of your body, it would throw you 
down backwards with great force. 

It is because the air presses upon you equally 
in all directions, and that it is inside of your 
body too, that you can stand up and walk about 
without difficulty. 

If you put a quill, with the end cut square 
off, to the end of your tongue, and draw the 
air out of the quill quickly, it will stick very 
tight to your tongue. • 

The reason of this is, that there is no air 
inside of the quill to press against the air on 
the outside, and so the air all pressing with 
great weight one way on your tongue, and on 
the outside of the quill, presses them together, 
and makes the quill stick to the tongue until 
the air is in some way brought into the inside 
of the quill again. 

In the same way, the leather about which 
you told me is pressed down so hard against 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



159 



the stone, and lies so close to it that the air 
between the leather and the stone is forced 
away, so that there is no air there. The leather, 
when vou draw it up with the string, rises a 
little in the middle, and leaves a hollow place 
there, in which there is no air. The air then 
on the outside of the leather, and all round 
and underneath the stone, presses with great 
weight, and presses the leather and stone 
very tight together, because there is no air 
between them to press against the air on the 
outside. 

When you lift up the edge of the leather, as 
you told me7 and let the air in, it rushes with 
great weight between the leather and the stone, 
and they separate from each other. 

R. I think, mother, I understand pretty well 
now how the elephant, by putting the edge of 
his trunk on a heavy thing and then drawing 
all the air out of it, is able to lift it up without 
any difficulty. The air which is under and all 
round the heavy thing and the trunk, presses 
them tight together and makes the heavy thing 
stick to the trunk. 

M. You are right, my son; and when the 
elephant fills his trunk with air again, this air 



160 



THE rOUTH'S BOOK 



presses from the inside of the trunk against the 
heavy thing just as hard as the air on the out- 
side does, so that there is no force to keep it 
up any longer, and it instantly falls down. 

With this trunk the animal takes all his food 
from the ground and puts it into his mouth, just 
as we do ours with our hand. 

When he drinks, too, he first draws up the 
water into his trunk, and then empties it into 
his mouth. 

R. How many things, mother, he can do with 
his trunk. 

M. Yes, my son ; on some accounts, it is even 
more curious and wonderful than your arm and 
hand, which I have explained to you. 

The trunk of an elephant is to him what 
their neck i§ to other animals. 

It is a nose with which he smells and 
breathes. 

It is an arm and hand with a very curious 
finger, with which he feels, and does a great 
many things easily and quickly. 

It has been said that he carries his nose in 
his hand ; and it might have been said also, 
that he breathes with his hand. How strange 
it would seem to you and me, if we should 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



161 



smell and breathe and feel and take things 
with one of our fingers. 

E. Mother, if I go to see the elephant again, 
I will ask the keeper to let nie examine the 
finger at the end of the trunk very particu- 
larly. 

M. I dare sav he will be willing to let vou 
do it. 

But I cannot tell you any thing more about 
the elephant now. 

His trunk, as you have seen, is a most curi- 
ous instrument, made in part to help the ani- 
mal to get his food, because his neck is so 
short : and besides this, to enable him to smell 
and breathe, and do a great many things which 
are necessary for his comfort. Do you not 
think this is another very striking proof of 
the design, contrivance, skill, and goodness of 
God? 

R. I do indeed, mother. 

M. Well, my son, men, beasts, birds, fishes, 
insects, trees, flowers, and vegetables, have hun- 
dreds and thousands of other things quite as 
wonderful as any thing that I have yet explained 
to you. TVe cannot look around us without 
seeing proofs everywhere, that there is a God, 

Nat. Theology. ] 1 



162 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and that he is a Being of infinite power, wis- 
dom, and goodness. 

We may well say, as David did, in the 
Psalms which he wrote, 

" Lord, how manifold are thv works ! in 
wisdom hast thou made them all : the earth is 
full of thy riches." 

"The Lord is good to all; and his tender 
mercies are over all his works." 



ON NATURAL THE OLOG- Y. 



163 



DIALOGUE XII. 

Mother. I explained to you yesterday, my son, 
about the trunk of an elephant, with which he 
can do a great many things ; and how necessary 
it is for him, that he may get his food and drink. 

It is wonderful to see the many different 
ways in which beasts, birds, fishes, and injects 
get their food ; and also how God has formed 
them, that they may do this ; and particularly 
how their mouths are made, to take their food 
after they have found it. 

Our mouths are flat. They are made, not to 
pick up or take hold of our food. Our hands 
do this, and put the food into the mouth. 

But where animals have no hands or no 
trunk, their mouths have to pick up and take 
hold of their food. And as their food is of a 
great many different kinds, and found in a great 
many different places, and to be taken a great 
many different ways, their mouths had to be 
made of a great many different shapes and sizes, 
and so as to have a great many different motions. 



164 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Only think how much design, contrivance, 
and skill was necessary to do all this so as to 
provide for the comfort and nourishment and 
life of so many millions of living beings. 

Each of them has a mouth, and yet in how 
many different ways their mouths are made; 
and the mouth of one kind would be exceed- 
ingly inconvenient, and often entirely useless, 
if it had been made for a different kind. 

You have seen different kinds of locks : some 
for front-doors, some for parlor-doors, some 
for cellar-doors, some for bureaus, jome for 
trunks. 

R. Yes, mother ; and some very curious lit- 
tle padlocks. You know uncle John has one 
for his travelling-bag. 

M. Well, Robert, these different kinds of 
locks are all alike in some things, and they 
were all made with one design, to fasten some- 
thing up tight, so that it could not be opened 
without the key. 

But when you see them unlike in other things, 
you know at once that they were made with 
another design also, to have them suited to 
things of different sizes and uses, so as to fasten 
them tight. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



165 



R. Yes, mother, and I am sure that a door- 
lock never was made to be put on to a trunk. 

M. When we see then so many different kinds 
of mouths, each suited to a particular kind of 
animal that has to get its food in its own way, 
we are sure that God had a particular design 
in making them so ; and this is one other strik- 
ing proof of his wisdom and goodness. 

E. Mother, do tell me about some of the cu- 
rious kinds of mouths that animals have. 

M. Did you ever see a woodpecker? 

E. yes, and I have wondered what he 
keeps knocking against the tree for, so long 
and so hard with his bill. I should think he 
would get very tired sometimes. 

M. He is hungry, and is working for his 
food. You would be glad to work too, Robert, 
for your food, if you could not get it in any 
other way. And you should be willing to 
work for it, which perhaps you may yet have 
to do. 

E. What is the woodpecker's food, mother? 

M. It is principally worms and insects, which 
tie finds in the trunks of old decayed trees. 

E. But why does he make so much noise in 
finding them ? 



166 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. The worms and insects are deep in the 
wood, where other kinds of birds never could 
reach them. 

Here is a drawing of the bill and tongue of 
the woodpecker, which are made on purpose 
to enable him to get his food. 




His bill is long, straight, hard, and sharp, 
and like a wedge at the tip of it. His tongue 
is round, something like a worm, very long, so 
that it can come out three or four inches be- 
yond the bill, and has at the end of it a stiff, 
sharp, bony thorn. This bony end of the tongue 
has little teeth as it were, on each side of it, 
standing backward like the barb of a fish-hook. 

With his bill he chisels out a hole in the 
wood, and this is what he was doing when you 
saw him knocking, as you said, and heard the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 167 

great noise that he made. He keeps chiselling 
till he comes to where the worms or insects are, 
and then he suddenly darts out his long tongue 
upon them, seizes them with the sharp hooked 
end of it, and draws them into his mouth. 

The woodpecker chisels a hole for its nest 
in which to lay its eggs, and these holes often 
are very deep, so that the eggs may be safe. The 
eggs are usually laid on the rotten wood, but 
sometimes moss or wool is put into the nest for 
the eggs to lie on. 

You see what contrivance and skill are shown 
in the bill and tongue of this curious bird. 
You know the design with which they were 
made, to enable the woodpecker to get food 
and to make a nest ; and you are just as sure 
that God made them, and made them for this 
purpose, as that a chisel was made by some 
one, and that it was made to cut with into wood. 
A man has a mallet to drive a chisel with, but 
the woodpecker's head is his mallet, and his 
skull is unusually thick, that his head may b^ar 
the jarring which his hard knocks make. 

I read lately in one of the newspapers, an 
account of a woodpecker somewhere in Ma,«^a 
chusetts, which I think will interest you. 



168 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



He made a deep hole just as exactly and 
neatly as if it had been made with a mallet 
and chisel, to the very centre of the branch of 
a young, tough, white oak tree. The branch 
was from three to five inches round. He did 
this to find a worm called a borer. The worm 
had made a hole in the branch about as large 
round as a goose-quill, four or five inches below 
the hole chiselled out by the woodpecker. The 
worm was going upward inside of the branch, 
when the woodpecker made his hole just in the 
right place to catch the worm with his barbed 
tongue, and devour him. 

These worms injure the trees, and the wood- 
pecker and other birds which devour worms 
and insects do a great deal of good. It is quite 
a pity that they should be killed. 

R. Have any other birds, mother, as curious 
bills as that of the woodpecker ? 

M. Yes, my son, there is a bird called the 
cross-bill, that has this name on account of its 
bill, the two parts of which are so bent that 
they cross one another near the point, some- 
times on one side and sometimes on the other, 
as you see in the picture. The bill is sharp 
and single-edged near the point. They live in 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



169 



cold and mountainous countries, in the forests 
of fir and pine trees. 

The seeds of the trees are in something of 
the shape of a cone, or loaf of white sugar, 
only a good deal smaller, and these cones are 
full of something like scales. The cross-bill 
divides these scales very dexterously with its 
bill, and picks out the seed ; which it can do 
if they are ever so small, by bringing the two 
pointed ends of its bill exactly together. Here 
is a picture of the cross-bill. 



170 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Sometimes they have been seen in orchards 
of fruit-trees, and they will easily divide an 
apple, so as to get the seeds. 

R. Mother, do the bills of birds grow dull 
by using them ? 

M. No, my son, unless they live to be very 
old. I have read of a goldfinch which was 
twenty-three years old. The people who kept 
it were obliged, once a week, to scrape its nails 
and bill, that it might eat, drink, and sit on its 
bar. It could not fly, and all its feathers had 
become white. 

R. Mother, ducks and geese have very dif- 
ferent kinds of bills from those that you have 
been explaining to me. 

M. Yes, they have long broad bills, some- 
what like a spoon, which enables them to get 
their food under water and in the ground, and 
in muddy places. The inside of the bill near 
the edges has rows of short and strong pointed 
prickles, as you see in the drawing. But they 
are not teeth to chew w r ith. They are made to 
help the bird to find its food. For when the 
duck plunges its bill down into the water or 
mud, it draws them up, and whatever may be in 
them, through the rows of prickles on the in 



171 



OX NATURAL THEOLOGY* 



side of the bill, catching what is good and 
throwing away all the rest. 




And that the duck may thus select its food 
the better, the bill is covered with a skin, and 
there are large nerves to give it feeling, which 
run down quite to the end of it. 

How necessary such a kind of bill is for a 
bird that seeks its food as the duck does, and 
gropes for it out of sight. As it does not 
always see its food, it can find it and tell when 
it is good and pleasant by feeling. 

Here, again, how striking is the design, con- 
trivance, and skill, which are shown us in the 
bill of the duck, that is made so differently 
from that of the woodpecker and of the cross- 
bill, because it has to get its food in a way so 
different from that in which they get theirs. 



172 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



There is another bird called the oyster- 
catcher, that gets its food in a still different 
way, and has a bill made so as to be exactly 
suited to its wants. 

Here is a drawing of one. 




It lives principally on oysters and other kinds 
of shell-fish, the shells of which it opens. That 
it may be able to do this, it has a long, stout 
bill shaped like a wedge, and narrow next to 
the head, that it may work the more easily in 
the sand. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



173 



These birds not only open the shell-fish with 
their bill, but if they find one fastened tight to 
a rock, they will knock it off as skilfully with 
their b ; U as a man would do with a stone. 

R. Mother, is there any thing like this as 
curious about fishes, as there is about birds ? 

M. Yes, my son, quite so. Indeed, I have 
read of one fish that has a way of getting its 
food more strange than any thing which I 
have told about the birds. 

What should you think of a fish shooting 
flies as a man does birds, that it may get them 
to eat ? 

R. Is that true, mother ? 

M. Yes, my son. There is a fish that lives 
in the Indian seas, called a choetoclon, which 
has a snout like a tube. 

R. What is it like, mother, that I have seen ? 

M. If you cut a quill off square at both ends, 
and take the pit out, it will be a small tube. 
You know you can blow water through it some 
distance, and with some force. 

The fish has a snout something like this, 
through which it can shoot a drop of water 
with so sure an aim, and with so much force, 
that it can hit an insect from four to six feet 



174 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



off, and thus kill it or stun it so that it falls 
down on the water, and the fish gets it for 
food. 

It shoots the insect, too, while it is flying, 
seldom missing its aim ; and this is what very 
few, even of the most skilful gunners, can do. 

These fish have a very beautiful shape, and 
a great variety of brilliant colors. They are 
sometimes caught and kept in a large vessel of 
water, and amuse the people very much by their 
great dexterity in shooting. For if a fly is put 
on the edge of the vessel, the fish immediately 
perceives it, and shoots at it so exactly as very 
seldom indeed to miss it. 

Is all this chance ? Strange, indeed, that this 
fish was made so, and to be able to do so by 
chance. 

Does a gun chance to be made, and a man 
chance to find it, and to know what it was 
made for; and when he feels hungry, because 
he has no other food, chance to go into the 
woods, and chance to keep looking after a bird 
to shoot it ; and when he sees one, chance to 
shoot it, and carry it home to eat? 

Was there no design, contrivance, and skill, 
in the making of the gun ; and none in the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



175 



man's using it ? Who made the tube-like snout 
of the choetodon, and who taught this fish how 
to use it ? 

R. Mother, he must be a fool who says 
there is no God. 

M. Yes, my son, " The fool hath said in his 
heart, There is no God. ;? 

It is because they are so wicked, that some 
men wish to believe there is no God ; and per- 
haps, in a few instances, have thought that they 
did believe so. 

But they quite forgot one thing. If it has 
happened by chance that there are men with 
wonderful souls and bodies, and that they have 
so much design and skill and contrivance as 
to make the thousands of curious and useful 
things which we daily see, it may have hap- 
pened that there is a God. 

And if it has happened that there is a God, 
why may he not have vastly more design and 
skill and contrivance than men have ? 

How much more a man has, than a dog. It 
has happened so, at any rate, for we see it, and 
know it. It has happened, too, that some men 
have a great deal more wisdom and power 
than others. 



176 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



It has happened that men make curious 
and wonderful things. May it not have hap- 
pened that God made the millions of curi- 
ous and wonderful things that we see, which 
we know men have not made, and which 
we also know it is impossible for them to 
make ? 

And if so, how vast the wisdom and power 
of God must be. They are so vast, that we 
cannot think how vast they are. 

It may liave happened, then, that there is a 
God of infinite wisdom and power. 

The atheist is often afraid to do certain 
wrong things, because he knows it may hap- 
pen that his fellow-men will despise him and 
avoid him, and have nothing to do with him ; 
or if the things are bad enough, that they will 
even put him in prison, or hang him. 

All this has often happened to bad men, not- 
withstanding they were able to hide the wrong 
things that they did from the knowledge of 
every body for a long time. They may have 
done this for years, but it has often, very often 
happened that it was found out at last. They 
did not expect that it would be so. They felt 
quite safe. But at length they were found out, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGT. 



177 



to their great surprise and shame, and were 
sadly disgraced and punished. 

May it not happen, that for his sins, even the 
most secret ones, the atheist will be punished 
in a future world ? Cannot God find his sins 
out, if his fellow-men can find them out? 

It happens, as the atheist says, by chance, 
that he often suffers very severe punishment in 
this world for doing wrong; may it not hap- 
pen that he will suffer still more severely in 
the future world? Does chance do so many 
wonderful and right and good things in this 
world, and none in the next? 

The atheist says all things have happened, 
and continue to happen by chance. 

What if it is so ? suppose it is so ; still he is 
a very unwise and daring man. 

For why is it, as you have seen, any more 
improbable that it should happen that there 
is an infinitely wise and powerful God, who 
will punish sin in the future world, than that 
there are men who have but little wisdom and 
power, but who yet have prudence and strength 
enough to punish each other, when they do 
wrong in this world ? 

What a risk, then, the atheist runs. The 

Nat Theology. 1 2 



178 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Bible tells us, that " it is a fearful thing to fall 
into the hands of the living God." 

How foolish, as well as wicked, are those 
who doubt that there is a God ; or who deny 
his right to govern them ; or who do not love 
him, and do all he has commanded us to do. 

Think of these truths, my son ; and may God 
enable you to understand them, to believe 
them, and to feel them 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



179 



DIALOGUE XIII. 

Mother. I have told you, Robert, about a 
fish that shoots water at insects that are flyiirg 
above it, and thus gets them for food. Now I 
am going to tell you about a fish that 'has a 
very curious way of defending itself against 
the attacks of larger fishes which come to de- 
vour it, and of preventing resistance in smaller 
ones that it wishes to seize for food. 

Robert. I suppose it has a very large mouth 
and sharp teeth, mother. 

M. Xo. my son ; if you were to look at it, 
you would not see any thing about it that 
looked as if the fish had much power to do 
any thing on+y to swim. 

It looks like an eel ; indeed it is called the 
electrical cel. Look at this drawing of it. 



180 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



It is very common in South America. It is 
from three to five feet long, and about a foot 
round in the thickest part. Some have been 
found more than twenty feet long, which have 
such great power, that if a man only touches 
them they can kill him instantly. 

R. Mother, if I did not know that you never 
tell me any thing that is not true, I could not 
believe it. 

M. You see, my son, the advantage of al- 
ways speaking the truth. If I had sometimes 
deceived you, you would not know whether to 
believe me now or not. 

R. Mother, do explain to me about this won 
derful fish. 

M. I will try to, so far as I can ; but there 
are some things about it which I do not under- 
stand myself, and many things, too, which you 
cannot understand till you grow older and 
have studied a good many books. But I will 
explain to you enough to show you, in this 
curious fish, one more striking proof of the de- 
sign, contrivance, and skill of God. 

You have seen the lightning. 

R. Oh, yes, mother; do you not remember 
the terrible thunder-storm last summer, when 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 181 

you and I were sitting in the parlor, and all at 
once we saw the lightning strike a tall tree in 
the field ? What a loud clap of thunder there 
was at the same time. 

M. I remember it very well, my son, and 
how we went the next day to look at the tree, 
and saw it split quite through in the middle, 
and a good deal burned. 

But do you remember, Robert, how strangely 
we both felt, as if something had struck us and 
given us a jar all over ? 

R. Yes, mother; and you told me you 
thought the lightning must have struck the 
lightning-rod on our house too, and run down 
into the ground without doing the house any 
harm. 

M. In a thunder-storm, my son, the clouds 
are filled with something which is called elec- 
tricity. It is not known what it is ; what it 
does, is all that is known. 

One cloud sometimes has more electricity 
in it than another cloud has. If these two 
clouds come near each other, the electricity 
will go from the cloud which has the most to 
that which has the least. This it does very 
suddenly ; and in passing thus from one cloud 



182 



THE YOUTH : S BOOK 



to the otler, that bright something like fire is 
seen which we call lightning; and soon the 
noise is heard which we call thunder. 

The tree that we saw struck had less elec- 
tricity in it, than the cloud which passed over 
it had. The electricity went suddenly from 
the cloud to the tree. It appeared in the 
bright flash of lightning that we saw, and we 
say the lightning struck the tree. 

About eighty years ago, Dr. Franklin, a 
countryman of ours, made a kite out of silk, 
and raised it high up in the air during a thun- 
der-storm. 

After some time, the electricity passed from 
the clouds to the kite and came down the 
string, at the end of which was a key. Dr. 
Franklin put his knuckles to the key, and 
suddenly bright sparks came from it to his 
knuckles. 

R. Mother, that was lightning ; did it not 
kill him ? 

M. No, my son, the quantity was too small 
to do him any harm. But sometimes there is 
so much electricity in a flash of lightning, that 
when it strikes persons it kills them instantly. 

There is a machine called an electrical ma- 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY". 



183 



chine, a part of which is a large, round, hollow 
cylinder of glass, that is made to turn round 
with a handle. 

When this is turned round, somehow or other 
electricity is made, and comes from the glass 
to a long tube of brass, with a brass ball on 
the end of it. 

If any one puts his knuckles to this brass 
ball, bright sparks of fire will come from it, 
just as they did from the key on the string of 
Dr. Franklin's kite. 



184 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. And does this machine make lightning, 
mother ? 

M. Yes, my son, it may be said to do so ; for 
it makes the same electricity appear in bright 
sparks, which the clouds make to appear in 
lightning during a thunder-storm. 

R. Does it not hurt a person, mother, to 
have the sparks from the brass ball strike his 
knuckle ? 

M. No, my son, very little, if any. But 
there is a way of getting a great deal of elec- 
tricity, so as to hurt a person very much, or 
even to kill him. 

A curious vial is made, with a brass rod go- 
ing into it, and a brass ball at the end of the 
rod. While the glass cylinder is turned, and 
the electricity is passing from it to the long 
brass tube, if the ball of the vial is held near 
to the ball of the tube, sparks of electricity 
will go from the ball of the tube to the ball of 
the vial. These sparks will keep going, and 
the electricity will go down the wire into the 
vial, and the inside of the vial have a good 
deal of electricity in it. 

Then the cylinder is no longer turned, and 
the vial is set on the table. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



185 



If any body touches the bottom of the vial 
with one hand, and then brings the other hand 
very near to the brass ball of the vial, he will 
instantly feel a hard shock in his wrists, elbows, 
and breast, as if somebody had struck him. 
The electricity goes as quick as lightning, 
from the brass ball, through the person who 
touches it. 

If one hundred or more persons should take 
hold of each other's hands and stand round in 
a ring, and the person at one end should touch 
the bottom of the vial with his hand, and the 
person at the other end of the ring touch the 
brass ball of the vial with his hand, all the per- 
sons would instantly feel the shock at the same 
time. For the electricity would go through 
them all from the brass ball, as quick as light- 
ning. 

Many such vials are sometimes made and 
placed near each other, so that they can all be 
filled with electricity. They are all connected 
with each other, so that the electricity can h° 
taken from them all at the same time. There 
is a way of doing this without having it pass 
through any body, and when it is done there is 
a prodigious flash like lightning, and a noise 



186 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



like that of a cannon when it is fired. These 
vials thus put together, are called an electrical 
battery ; and when the electricity is taken 
from them all at once, it is called discharging 
the battery. 

Just as when a man loads a gun, he is said 
to charge it, and when he fires it off to dis- 
charge it. 

R. If the electrical battery should be dis- 
charged through a person, it would kill him — 
would it not, mother ? 

M. It might easily be made to do so, my son, 
if there were vials enough, and if they were 
filled with electricity. 

R. I think I know, mother, why the fish that 
you were going to tell me about is called an 
electrical eel. 

M. Well, why is it called so, Robert ? 

R. Electricity comes from it, mother, when 
you touch it, just as it does from the electrical 
battery. 

M. You are right, my son, it does so. 

Some of these fish have been caught and 
kept in vessels, and a great many experiments 
tried with them. It has been found, that they 
can give a shock to any person or animal that 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



187 



touches or comes near them; that they can do 
this, or not, just as they choose ; that they can 
give a small shock or a hard one ; and that the 
shock is just like that which comes from an 
electrical vial. 

R. Does any spark come from the eel, mother : 

M. A spark was seen to come from oneVhen 
it was out of the water, and the electricity was 
discharged from it ; but when the fish is under 
water, no spark can be seen. 

These electrical eels have been examined, to 
see how they are made inside. It is found that 
more than one third of the whole fish is a 
curious electrical battery; as truly so as the 
electrical vials are, though it is made very 
differently from them. 

I cannot now describe it to you. It would 
take too long a time, and I could not do it with- 
out a drawing for you to look at to see the 
different parts. 

There are a great many of these parts much 
more curiously made and put together, than the 
parts of an electrical machine are ; and as I 
told you, one of the largest kind of these elec- 
trical eels can charge his battery so full, and 
discharge it with so much force, as to kill a 



188 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



man as quickly as a powerful stroke of light- 
ning would. 

Nobody knows how the fish makes the elec- 
tricity inside of him, and charges his battery 
with it, or how he discharges his battery so as 
to give a shock just when he chooses, and as 
light or as heavy a one as he chooses. 

I will take you soon to see an electrical 
machine, and some of the wonderful effects of 
electricity. 

R. But I do not wish to take a shock, 
mother ? 

M. A slight one would not hurt you. You 
may do as you choose, however. 

You will see in the electrical machine and 
the vial and the battery, and some other things 
to try experiments with, a great deal of design, 
contrivance, and skill. 

R. I am sure I shall, mother ; and I shall 
think, too, all the while, that the electricity 
made by the machine is the same as that in the 
clouds, and that the sparks are like the light- 
ning. I shall be a little afraid of it. 

M. It tas taken many wise men a great many 
years to find out what we know about elec- 
tricity, and to make electrical machiues and to 



ON NATUKAL lhKOLOGY. 189 

know how to charge the vials and batteries, 
and to use them without danger. 

And did chance make the electrical eel, 
with its battery inside of it, ready to be used 
at all times as it chooses, to defend itself against 
its enemies, or to aid it in seizing other fish for 
food ? 

And did the fish find out by chance, too, that 
it can make electricity and charge its battery 
and use it ; and did chance teach it what to 
use it for ? 

There are only five different kinds of fishes 
that are known to have this power of making 
and using electricity. 

It is a wonderful power for them to have. 
They can make and use that something which 
is often so terrible in the dark storm that 
passes over our heads. How we sometimes 
start at the flash of lightning, and shrink back 
as the thunder roars around us. It is then that 
God seems to show us his great power. 

He bows the heavens, and comes down. 

Darkness is under his feet. 

He flies upon the wings of the wind. 

Dark waters and thick clouds cover him 
round about. 



190 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



God thunders in the heavens. 

The Most High utters his voice. 

At such times, the atheist has been known to 
shudder and tremble at the power of God, and 
to cry and pray for deliverance from danger. 

Let us admire the same power of God, which 
can so curiously confine within the body of a 
small fish, that electricity which gives the thun- 
der-storm its terror. Coming from the clouds, 
it splits the tallest trees, and destroys animals 
and men and houses. In the body of the fish, 
and used for his safety and benefit, it can do 
but little harm. 

But only think if all fishes and birds and 
beasts and men had this same power ; or if 
even all angry men had it ! 

R. I do not think, mother, that any of us 
would live a great while. 

M. You see then, my son, in the fish which 
I have been explaining to you, and in a few 
others of the same kind, one more striking 
proof of the power, the wisdom, and the good- 
ness of God. 

R. Yes, mother ; and I am sure I shall always 
remember it, it is so wonderful and so differ- 
ent from any thing that I have ever heard before. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



191 



DIALOGUE XIV. 

Robert. Mother, I was stung by a bee this 
morning ; see how my finger is swelled. - 

Mother. Not a great deal, Robert. I am 
glad it is no worse. 

R. I think 1 went rather too near the hive. 
I shall not go so near again. 

M. It is best to be careful, my son ; for some- 
times the sting of a bee is very painful indeed, 
and it takes a good while to heal the wound. 

R. How can such a little insect make so 
bad a wound, mother ? 

M. It has a part of its body made for this 
very purpose. 

The sting is inside of a horny sheath or scab- 
bard. This sheath ends in a sharp point, which 
is slit, so as to open and let the sting come out 
when the wound is made. The sting is double, 
made of two small darts, very sharp, and barbed 
like a fish-hook. Each dart has many of these 
little barbs. One dart is somewhat longer 
than the other. 



192 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

Here is a drawing of the sting of a bee, very 
greatly magnified. 




When a bee stings any body, it first pushes 
the pointed, horny sheath through the skin into 
the flesh. Then it thrusts out the longest dart 
of its sting, through the sheath into the flesh, 
where it holds fast with its barbed point. The 
other dart follows, and so the two darts, one 
after the other, keep piercing into the flesh, till 
the whole sting is buried in it. 

R. I do not wonder, mother, that the sting 



ON NATURAL THEOLOOY. 193 

of a bee is so painful, and the wound which it 
makes so bad. 

M. But it would not be so, Robert, if the lit- 
tle insect did not do something more than I 
have told you. 

E. What is that, mother ? 

M. While the sting is in the flesh, it pours 
some poison through the sheath into the wound, 
and it is this which makes the painful swelling. 
If this was not done, the sting of a bee would 
be no worse than a pretty deep prick of a pin, 
or when you cut yourself a very little with the 
sharp point of a penknife. 

E. Where does the poison come from, mother? 

M. There is a little bag at the root of the 
sting, which holds it ; and there are several 
curious muscles, with which the bee can move 
its sting different ways and thrust it into the 
flesh, and make the poison flow from the bag, 
through the sheath, into the wound. 

Look again at the drawing of the sting, and 
I will explain to you the different parts. 

(H is the tube in which the poison is made, 
and which conveys it into the bag (6,) from 
which it is carried, through another tube, into 
the sting's sheath (/ /.) 

Nat. Theology. 13 



194 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



\e e) is the outward sheath, which shuts over 
the inward sheath (I 1.) 

(m m m m) are four cartilages, and (o o o o) 
four very small muscles, by the help of which 
the bee can move the sting different ways. 

(p p) are two muscles, to draw the sting into 
the sheath. 

(d) is the sting divided into two parts, and 
barbed at the sides. 

See how this little insect is provided with a 
weapon sufficient to defend itself against very 
large and powerful enemies. It knows very 
well too how to use it; and a swarm of bees 
are as safe against the attacks of animals, as 
they could wish to be. 

R. Yes, mother, I remember how the bear 
that tried to get the honey in a beehive, was 
stung by the bees. I read about it in my book 
of fables. 

The instruments also with which the bee and 
other insects get their food are very curious, 
and show us the design, contrivance, and skill 
of that wise and good Being who made the lit- 
tle bees, and all other insects; and who con- 
stantly takes care of them, as well as of man 
and of the larger animals. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 195 

R. Do tell me about them, mother. 

M. I will ; but I must first tell you about a 
few other things, so that you may understand 
me the better. 

Some persons have taken great pains to find 
out the different kinds of insects, and how they 
are made, and how they live, and what they do. 
They have made large collections of them ; and 
where such a collection is made, and the insects 
are all put in order in glass cases, it is called 
a cabinet of insects. 

In some of these cabinets there are forty 
thousand different kinds of insects ; but proba- 
bly there are a great many more in the world, 
which have not yet been discovered. 

The manner in which their mouths and their 
instruments for getting food are made, is more 
curious than that of beasts, birds, or fishes. 

Some insects have jaws, and usually two 
pairs of jaws, an upper and a lower pair. They 
do not move against each other up and down, 
as ours do, but sideways. The upper pair, in 
most cases, seize the food and chew it. The 
under pair, which are often hooked, hold the 
food and tear it, and afterwards the upper pair 
make it very fine before it is swallowed. 



196 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



The jaws of some are sharp, and are set 
with little thorns for tearing flesh ; others are 
hooked, for seizing worms or insects, and at the 
same time hollow, for sucking up their juice : 
some cut leaves like scissors ; others are strong 
enough to grind the hardest wood between 
them. 

To a great many insects, jaws would have 
been useless. All the food which they take is 
liquid. Moths and butterflies are of this kind. 
They eat nothing but honey, which is often 
quite deep at the bottom of flowers. They 
need some way then of being able to reach it, 
just as we need some way of getting water from 
the bottom of a well before we can drink it. 

God has furnished them with just what they 
need. 

They have a slender tongue, hollow inside 
like a tube, and sometimes three inches long, 
which, when they do not use it, they coil up in 
a small space, that it may not be in the way or 
get injured. 

When they use it, they unroll it instantly, 
and darting it into the bottom of a flower, 
draw up the sweet juice or honey on which 
they feed. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 197 

This tongue is a hard kind of flesh, made 
up of a great many little rings, which lie one 
above the other, and are moved by an equal 
number of muscles. 

Though it looks very simple, and as if it 
were only one tube, it is in fact made up of 
three smaller distinct tubes; the two outside 
ones to draw in the air, and the middle one to 
suck up the honey. This middle tube is nearly 
square, and formed by the two outside ones 
coming close together, with a channel or trough 
cut in each. 

These two outside tubes are held fast to- 
gether by a great many little hooks on each, 
that hook into each other, somewhat as you can 
hook the fingers of one hand on to the other, 
and hold the hands very tight together. 

The insect can unhook these outside tubes, 
or hook them together again, whenever it 
pleases. 

When they are hooked together, the inside 
tube is air-tight; that is, no air can possibly 
pass through its sides. When the insect puts 
this tube down into the honey, and sucks up 
the air that is inside of the tube, the air at 
the bottom of the flower presses the honey 



198 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



up into the tube, and up into the mouth of the 
insect. 

R. Oh, mother, this is like what the boys 
sometimes do when they suck up new cider 
out of the tub with a straw. 

M. It is, my son; and a common pump does 
something like it too. The honey is pressed 
up by the air into the tube" of the insect, be- 
cause there is no air inside of the tube to press 
the honey down, the insect having emptied 
the inside of the tube of all the air. 

For the same reason, the cider rises in the 
straw, and the water in the pump. You recol- 
lect I explained to you about this pressure of 
the air, when you told me about the sucker 
which the boys made, and I showed you that 
it was like the trunk of the elephant lifting a 
heavy weight. 

R. I remember it, mother; but I did not 
think then that little insects, like a moth and 
a butterfly, have a trunk too. 

M. And quite as curious a one, you see, Rob- 
ert, as that of the great elephant. 

It was a long, long while before men found 
out how to make a pump, and I dare say the 
man who made the first one was thought to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



199 



have a great deal of design, contrivance, and 
skill ; and if any body had said that it was not 
made by the man, but came by chance one day, 
the people would have laughed at him as a 
very foolish man. 

Who contrived and made its little pump for 
the butterfly, which is indeed much more curi- 
ous than our pump in the well is ? Did no one 
make it, no one design it for any particular 
use ? Did all its parts happen to come together 
by chance — not only in one butterfly, but in the 
millions and millions of butterflies that have 
lived; and did they happen to come together 
just exactly right, and always exactly alike, so 
as to make the same kind of pump for hundreds 
and hundreds of years ? 

For there was a time, my son, when the first 
butterfly lived and laid its little eggs. 

R. yes, mother, just like the first hen 
about which you told me, and then more butter- 
flies came out of the eggs, and so there have 
been millions and millions of butterflies in the 
world. 

M. But there is a great difference, Robert, 
between the eggs of a hen and those of a but- 
terfly. 



200 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



E. I know that, mother : I never saw the 
eggs of a butterfly, but they must be a great 
deal smaller than those of a hen. 

M. Yes, some of them are not larger than 
the head of a pin, and they are very different 
in another respect. Little chickens come out 
of the eggs which the hen lays, but little but- 
terflies do not come out of the eggs which the 
butterfly lays. 

The eggs of a butterfly are laid on the leaf 
of some plant, very often on the leaf of a cab- 
bage, and stuck fast to it with something like 
glue, where they remain some weeks, and some- 
times months, before they are hatched. The 
butterfly takes no care of the eggs ; indeed, she 
dies very soon after laying them. They are 
hatched by the warmth of the air and heat of 
the sun, and at last out of each egg comes a 
worm-like caterpillar. 

This caterpillar crawls upon sixteen short 
legs, and has two jaws with which it greedily 
devours leaves. 

It has twelve eyes, so very small that they 
cannot be seen without a microscope. 

It eats the leaves of the plant on which the 
egg was laid very voraciously, and grows faster 



CN NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



201 



than almost any other animal. It grows so 
fast that its skin becomes too tight, and it bursts 
through it and casts it off, and very soon has a 
new skin. This it does five or six times. 

After some weeks, or in some kinds of cater- 
pillars, some months, this little animal begins 
to get ready for another singular change; 

It may be seen crawling away from the plant 
on which it has fed, and trying to find some 
place out of sight, where it may be safe from 
its enemies ; for pretty soon it will stop eat- 
ing entirely, and not be able to move or help 
or defend itself. 

It often climbs up high walls and gates and 
trees, to find such a place as it needs. 

Having found it, the caterpillar spins from 
its mouth a great many very fine silken threads, 
by which it hangs from some projection, or 
from the under-side of a leaf or branch. Some 
kinds hang with the head downwards, while 
others hang sideways, by means of a silken 
belt which they make round the middle of 
their bodies. 

It now begins to try to force itself once more 
out of its skin, which, after a great deal of 
twisting and struggling, it at last succeeds in 



202 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



doing. But sometimes this is so difficult, that 
it takes a day or two to accomplish it. 

Out of the old skin there comes a little ani- 
mal very different from the caterpillar, and it 
is called a chrysalis. 

This chrysalis has little hooks on its tail, with 
which it fastens itself to something like a small 
silk button, which the caterpillar spun to hang 
upon. 

It now tries to get the old skin of the cater- 
pillar out of the way, putting itself in all sorts 
of shapes, pushing against the old skin, and 
spinning itself round with a sudden jerk fifteen 
or twenty times. At last it succeeds, the old 
skin is cast away, and there hangs the chrys- 
alis, waiting for another and still more aston- 
ishing change. 

Here is a drawing of a caterpillar (a,) and 
of a chrysalis W,) hanging as I have just been 
explaining to you. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



203 




The shape of the chrysalis is quite different 
from that of the caterpillar. It is the case 
^vhich holds the insect that is soon to come 
out of it ; and inside of this case, all the parts 
of the insect are curiously and carefully folded 
up. 

The chrysalis seems hardly to be alive. It 
keeps hanging from the silk button, and does 
not move nor cat. It continues so sometimes 
for ^veeks, and sometimes for months, and 
sometimes for a year or more, according to the 



204 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



season when the eggs were laid and hatched, 
and the time that the caterpiliar was growing, 
and the size of the insect that is to come out 
of the chrysalis. 

At length the time comes for the insect to 
burst its prison-house. It begins to struggle 
to escape. The skin is rent, and opening 
wider and wider, out comes a beautiful winged 
butterfly. 

This gay, happy insect glitters in the sun- 
beam, and floats on the breeze, and sports from 
flower to flower, jand sips the delicious honey 
a few summer days, or at most, weeks, and 
then dies. Before it dies, however, it lays its 
eggs, from which, in the same way, new cater- 
pillars and chrysales and butterflies are again 
to come ; all having their various parts formed 
with perfect exactness, and in each state per- 
fectly alike — egg like egg, caterpillar like cat- 
erpillar, chrysalis like chrysalis, butterfly like 
butterfly, year after year, from the first butter- 
fly down to the last one that has lived. 

What design, what contrivance, what skill ! 
No man can imitate it. God alone has wis- 
dom and power sufficient to do it. And every 
beautiful butterfly that you see in your walks 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



205 



in the fields, tells you, as if you should hear a 
voice from heaven, There is a God who made 
and preserves and governs all beings and 
things. 

Before we go, I wish to say one thing more 
to you about the butterfly. 

What wonderful changes take place in this 
little animal, from the time that it is in the 
egg to the day when it bursts its tomb and 
comes forth, no more to crawl on the ground, 
or to hang lifeless from the branch of a tree, 
but to fly freely and joyfully through the air. 

Who could have thought such a change pos- 
sible, if some one had not found it out by 
actually seeing it ? 

But God made this change, and his wisdom 
and power can make still more wonderful 
changes. 

He tells us in the Bible, that these bodies 
of ours, which must be laid in the grave, and 
there moulder away to dust, will again come 
forth — more surprisingly changed than the 
brilliant butterfly is, when it leaves its confine- 
ment. 

If we love and obey God, and trust in that 
Saviour who himself burst the bars of the 



^06 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



tomb and rose from the dead, and is gone to 
heaven, we too shall rise joyfully from the 
grave, and our bodies will become like unto 
Christ's glorious body. 

We shall all be changed in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, at the last trump ; for the 
trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be 
raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 
For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. 

It is the Bible, my son, which teaches us 
these wonderful truths. And while you ad- 
mire the wisdom and power of God in the 
curious butterfly which he has formed, think of 
that resurrection from the dead which, if you 
truly love God, will so change your present 
feeble and decaying body, that it will live in 
immortal health and youth and strength and 
beauty. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



207 



DIALOGUE X Y . 

Robert. You told me, mother, that there is 
a kind of butterfly which lays its eggs upon the 
leaf of a cabbage, and that the caterpillar 
which comes from the egg eats the leaf of the 
cabbage for its food. How did the butterfly 
know that the cabbage-leaf would be the right 
kind of food for the caterpillar ? 

Mother. I am glad, Robert, to hear you ask 
me such a question, for it shows that you have 
been thinking about what I have told you. 
Try as much as you can to find out the reason 
of things. Sometimes you will be able to do 
this yourself, and the oftener you can do so the 
better; for every time that you succeed you 
will be encouraged, and your mind will be 
strengthened to try again, and perhaps to suc- 
ceed again. 

R. I have tried, mother, to find out the 
reason why the butterfly always lays its eggs 
on the right kind of leaf, but I cannot, and so 
I have asked you to tell me. 



208 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. It certainly is strange, my son, that the 
butterfly should always do so, and never make 
any mistake; for you know it lays its eggs 
but once and dies soon after, so that it could 
not have learned by doing it several times, 
where the proper place is for its eggs to be 
hatched. Besides, the butterfly never itself 
eats the cabbage-leaf; for it lives on nothing 
but the sweet honey which it pumps up from 
the bottom of the flowers. How then should 
it know that the caterpillar which is to come 
from its egg will not be able to eat honey, and 
that its only food must be the cabbage-leaf? 

E. Well, mother, I am sure this is strange 
enough, and I cannot see any reason for it. 

M. I too, my son, am filled with wonder, 
when I think of it; and I know very little 
more about it than you do. I know that it is 
so, but how it is so, I shall be able to explain 
but very little to you. 

Different kinds of insects have very different 
places in which to lay their eggs, and also 
very different ways of doing it. 

There is a kind of moth which lays its eggs 
in the autumn, and they are not hatched till 
the spring. If they were placed upon a leaf, the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



209 



wind in winter might blow them a great way 
off, and the caterpillar might starve for want 
of its proper food. So the moth places the 
eggs round the twigs of the tree, the leaves of 
which the caterpillar is to eat. 

The eggs are in rings and look like little 
pearls, and the French gardeners call them 
bracelets. They are glued together with a 
kind of gum, which is so hard that it keeps 
them from being blown away by the wind, or 
injured by the rain, or devoured by any insects. 

All this the moth contrives to do with its 
tail and hind feet. 

Does the moth know the reason why it does 
so? 

There is a small fly that lays its eggs upon 
the branches of rose-trees and of other plants, 
on the leaves of which the caterpillar is to feed. 
To do this, it makes little cells, or small regu- 
lar holes to put the eggs in. 

If you had to make these cells, you would 
have to use a gimlet to bore the holes, and a 
file to make them regular and smooth. But 
the little fly has no gimlet or file. It has, 
however, what is quite as good, an instrument 
like a saw. This saw is more curious than 

^ at. Theology 1 4 



210 - THE TOUTH'S BOOK 

ours, for it lias teeth on each side ; so that it is 
like two saws put together, and can cut both 
ways, and answer the purpose both of a gimlet 
and a file. 

Does this fly know that the caterpillar that 
is to come out of the egg will eat only certain 
kinds of leaves ? 

A small gad-fly lays its eggs to be hatched 
in the hides, or skins of oxen and cows. 1 
dare say you have seen these insects flying 
about the oxen, and troubling them very much, 
for the gad-flies hurt them a good deal when 
they pierce the skin of any of the tender parts 
of their bodies. Does the gad-fly know that it 
would not do to lay its eggs on the leaves of 
plants ? 

Did you ever see a spy-glass, Robert ? 

R. Yes, mother ; do you not remember the 
one that uncle John has, which pulls out so 
many times ? 

M. Well, the gad-fly has in its tail an in- 
strument, hard and tough like horn, made of 
four pieces, which draw out just like the pieces 
of a spy-glass. At the end of it there are five 
pointed hooks, three of which are longer than 
the rest. These form an instrument very much 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



211 



like a gimlet, with which, in a few seconds, the 
wound is made and the eggs laid. 

The little ants, which you know live togeth- 
er in great numbers in their small houses, are 
very attentive indeed in taking care of their 
eggs. All the eggs are laid by one of the ants, 
which is called the queen ant. She does not 
lay them in some particular place, but any- 
where about the ant-nest. And she does not 
take the least care of them herself. 

As soon as the eggs are laid, there are other 
ants called icorkers, which immediately take 
them up in their mouths, and keep turning 
them backward and forward with their tongue, 
to moisten them. 

They lay the eggs in heaps, placing them in 
different rooms, and constantly take care of 
them till they are hatched. Frequently, in the 
course of the day. they remove them from one 
part of the nest to another, as they may need 
more or less heat, or more or less moisture. 

After the eggs are hatched, which happens 
in a few days, the workers are very careful of 
the little worms, or grubs, as they are called. 
They get them food constantly ; and every 
day, an hour before sunset, they regularly ro- 



212 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



mov^e them to little, cells lower down in the 
earth, where they will be safe from the cold, 
and in the morning carry them back again. If 
it is going to be cold or wet, however, they let 
them remain in the lower cell. 

What is very remarkable, the workers do all 
this earlier or later in the morning and even- 
ing, according as the sun rises and sets earlier 
or later. For as soon as the sun shines on 
the outside of their nest, the ants that are at 
the top go below in great haste to rouse their 
companions, and these quickly carry the grubs 
to the upper part of the nest, where they leave 
them a quarter of an hour, and then carry them 
into rooms where the sun cannot shine directly 
upon them. 

Sometimes the older grubs in one nest 
amount to seven or eight thousand, and the 
younger ones to as many. 

The older ones eat the most, and the work- 
ers have to work very hard to supply them 
with food, which they do several times a day. 

They take great pains too to keep the grubs 
clean, and for this purpose the workers are 
continually passing their tongues over them. 

After the young grubs have fully grown, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



213 



they wrap themselves up in a silken case, 
which they spin out of their own bodies, and 
now they begin to change their appearance 
and shape, and each one is called a pupa. 

These pupae inside of the silken cases, which 
are called cocoons, although they do not eat, re- 
quire as much care as the grubs did. 

Every morning and evening, they are carried 
up and down in the nest as the eggs were ; and 
if at any time the nest is crushed by the foot 
of some animal which is passing over it, the 
ants are all busy in picking out the cocoons 
from the earth, and in putting the nest in 
order again. 

Do the workers know when the pupae are 
fully grown, and that it is time for them to 
come out of the cocoons ? Do they know, too, 
that the pupae are too weak to do this alone ? 
For just at the right time, three or four begin 
to pull off some of the silken threads from one 
end of the cocoon, to make it thinner. They 
make several small openings, and cut the 
threads one by one which separate these open- 
ings, till a hole is made large enough to let 
the prisoners out. 

They do all this very gently, and then with 



214 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



equal care pull off the old skin which is on the 
pupas, and watch them for several days, and 
teach them how to find their way through all 
the rooms and windings of the nest. 

If I had time, 1 would tell you a great deal 
more about these curious and industrious little 
insects, and also about the great variety of 
ways in which different insects lay their eggs 
and provide for their being hatched, and for 
the caterpillars and grubs which come out of 
the eggs finding their food. 

It is very difficult to find out how it is that 
insects seem to know so well what to do, to 
take care of themselves and of their eggs and 
of their young. 

They do some things which it would seem 
they must think beforehand how to do. And 
so do beasts and birds and fishes. But then 
all of them do a great many things very curi- 
ously and exactly and regularly, without seem- 
ing to have the least contrivance or thought 
about it. 

Birds of the same kind build their nests in 
the same way, year after year. So do bees 
their hives ; and all the little cells are made 
as exactly of the right size and shape, as if the 



i 



OX NATURAL THEOLOG- Y . 215 

bees were able to draw lines and figures on 
paper, and calculate how it ought to be done, 
just as a man does how a house should be 
built. 

Do birds contrive beforehand how to build 
their nests ; and *bees, how to make their hives ? 
Do the old ones teach the young ones how to 
do this? If so, it is strange that they should 
do so exactly alike, year after year, and not 
make some alterations or improvement. It 
would take a man a good while to learn to 
make a beehive. He would make a great 
many mistakes probably, at first, and have to 
try a great many times, before he got it exactly 
right. 

R. Yes, mother, and after he had skill 
enough to do it, it would take him a long time 
to teach another man how to do it. 

M. That is true, Robert ; and if he should 
teach a hundred men how to do it, and they 
should teach a hundred others, and so on till a 
million of men were taught, do you suppose 
they would all make their beehives exactly 
alike, as the bees do ? 

R. I think not, mother. 

M. Besides, my son, it takes a great many 



216 



THE YObTirs BOOK 



bees to make one hive, and yet they all go to 
work on the same plan. They all work to- 
gether, without confusion or mistake. Some 
do one thing, and some another ; and yet they 
all do just what ought to be done, at the right 
time, and in the right place, till the hive is fin- 
ished. This they do, too, in different coun- 
tries and in different years, summer after sum- 
mer. 

If the bees are obliged to learn how to do 
all this, if they really think and reason and 
talk about it ; if they truly make their hives 
with the design of living in them, and of stor- 
ing away their honey, and of taking care of 
themselves, and of their eggs and their young ; 
and if they contrive beforehand how to build 
their hives, and carry on all their business, 
then, in these respects, they have more design, 
contrivance, and skill than men have. 

R. And if so, mother, I do not see why they 
do not learn to do other things for their com- 
fort ; just as when a man has contrived how to 
make one curious thing, he can easily contrive 
how to make other curious things. 

M. I think so too, Robert ; and as men keep 
finding out how to make new and useful 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 217 

things, year after year, and people in some 
countries grow wiser and more skilful than 
they do in some other countries, it would seem 
as if it would be so among the bees. But it is 
not ; they are just as wise and skilful in one 
country as in another, and they are no more so 
now than they were thousands of years ago. 

And this is true of all the different kinds of 
insects, of fishes, of birds, and of beasts. 

Man alone has the power of making new 
discoveries, and of designing new things, and 
of improving year after year in wisdom and 
skill. Men now have a great many conven- 
iences and comforts and advantages which they 
did not have hundreds of years ago. 

"What a difference there is between the 
house in which we live, and the wigwam of an 
Indian; between the clothes which we wear, 
and the skin of a wild beast which he throws 
around him. But there is no such difference 
between the hives of bees, or between the dif- 
ferent things which they get for their comfort. 
They all live and fare alike. 

Sometimes people have put some of the eggs 
of a duck into a hen's nest, to be hatched with 
her own eggs. After the eggs are hatched, 



218 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



the hen will take as good care of the little 
ducks as of her own chickens. As soon as the 
ducks can get to any water deep enough to 
swim in, away they go and plunge into it, and 
swim about with as little fear and with as 
much ease as the old ducks do. This troubles 
the hen a great deal. She makes a great noise 
about it, and does not seem to understand at 
all, that the little ducks are made very differ- 
ently from the chickens, with feet on purpose 
to swim in the water, and that they will have 
to get their food in a different way from what 
the chickens will. 

R. And the hen does not seem to understand, 
mother, that the bill of the ducks is very differ- 
ent from that of the chickens. You recollect 
you explained it to me. 

M. Yes, my son, and I am glad you have 
not forgotten it. 

You see, the hen does not seem to know 
any thing about the reason why the ducks go 
into the water, and the chickens do not. She 
tries to keep the ducks from going into it, and 
in every way takes the same care of them 
and of the chickens, and treats them exactly 
alike. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 219 




Why is she so stupid about this when she 
seems to know so much about other things ? 

And why, too. did the little ducks go so soon 
into the water? Xo duck taught them to do 
so. The hen tried all she could to prevent 
them from doing it. How did they know that 
the water would be a good place for them, and 
that they could swim in it? 

R. The more you tell mc about these things 
that animals do, mother, the more strange it 
seems to me. 



220 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



M. It is indeed strange, my son ; and there 
is no other way of explaining it, but to con- 
sider it as made to be so by God himself. 

R. Do you mean, mother, that God makes 
the butterfly lay its eggs in the right place, 
and the ants take care of their eggs and grubs 
and pupas as they do, and birds build their 
nests and bees their hives, and little ducks go 
into the water ? 

M. I do, my son, though not in the same way 
in which he makes the wind blow, or the light- 
ning come from the clouds and strike a tree. 

But we have talked a good while, and must 
stop now. I will talk with you again about 
the way in which God makes animals do a 
great many things, to-morrow morning. 



OIS .NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



221 



DIALOGUE XVI. 

Mother. Well, Robert, have you had a pleas- 
ant walk ? 

Robert. A very pleasant one, mother ; and 
I stopped to see a caterpillar hanging from a 
silk button on the under-side of a leaf. 

M. I cannot think, Robert, that the caterpil- 
lar does this because it knows that it is about to 
be turned into a chrysalis, and that afterwards 
the chrysalis will be turned into a butterfly. 

R. What then makes it do so, mother ? 

M. I was beginning to explain to you yester- 
day about the way in which God makes the 
caterpillar do this, and makes other insects, 
and the fishes and birds and beasts do a great 
many curious things, for doing which they do 
not seem to understand the reason at all. 

God gives them different instincts, which 
direct them to do certain things without their 
being obliged to learn how to do them, and 
without their knowing why they do them. 

Even plants seem to have something like 
instincts. 



222 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



When a kernel of corn is put into the ground, 
or indeed the seed of any plant, after some 
time a green sprout comes out from one end 
of the kernel, aird a good many little white 
threads from the other end. The sprout finds 
its way upward through the earth, and grows 
and becomes a stalk of corn, and bears 
ears. 

The little threads run downward and be- 
come roots, and help to fix the stalk strongly 
in the earth, and to draw nourishment for it 
from the earth. 

Now, what is very curious is, that you may 
put the kernel into the ground either end up, 
or either side up, any way that you choose, and 
the sprout will always take the right direction 
upward, and the little threads their right di- 
rection downward. 

R. Mother, did you never see how the bean- 
vines always go towards the poles and climb 
around them? 

M. I have, my son ; and this, as well as what 
I have told you the kernel of corn does, may be 
considered as an instinct. It is done without 
the kernel or the vine thinking or knowing 
any thing about it. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



223 



R. Are there any other curious instincts in 
plants, mother? 

M. Many, my son. If a vessel of water is 
placed within six inches of a cucumber-vine 
that is growing, in twenty-four hours the vine 
will change its direction, and not stop till it 
touches the water. 

There is a curious plant called & fly-trap, the 
leaves of which are jointed, and have two rows 
of strong prickles on them. 

If a fly or any other insect alights on these 
leaves, instantly they rise up, the rows of 
prickles lock themselves fast together, and the 
little animal is caught, and soon dies. It is 
thought, that in some way the plant is nour- 
ished by the dead insect. 

Here is a drawing of a part of this curious 
plant. You see a little insect has just got 
caught in itsMeaves. 




224 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



Here, again, is what may be called instinct. 
When the leaves spring together and catch the 
insect, and do not open till it dies, the plant 
feels nothing and knows nothing of all this, or 
of the reason why it is done. 

R. Mother, has a clock instinct ? It strikes 
to tells us what o'clock it is. 

M, No, my son, we know how the clock 
strikes. The weight makes the wheels go 
round, and the wheels raise the hammer, and it 
strikes the bell. "We call this mechanism. Ma- 
chines have not instinct. 

It is only those things that have vegetable 
and animal life which have instinct. 

What the cause of instinct is we do not k;now, 
nor in what way God gives it to the plants and 
animals, and makes it always $ct as it does, 
regularly and without any mistake. 

If I move my hand suddenly towards your 
eyes, as if I were going to strike them, you 
wink them instantly. 

R. Yes, mother; and I cannot help doing 

it. 

M. A little infant does the same. The reason 
of doing it, is to protect the eye from injury. 
But neither you nor the little infant think of 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



225 



this reason when you wink your eyes, nor 
think at all about doing it. 

It is instinct that leads you to do so. 

It is instinct that directs different animals 
to do what they do to preserve their lives, to 
defend themselves against clanger, to provide 
for their wants, to build their nests and other 
habitations to live in, and to take care of their 
young. 

They do all this in a very different way 
from that in which the clock strikes, or a steam- 
boat moves through the water; for animals 
are not machines. 

They do it too in a very different way from 
that in which men learn how to take care of 
themselves and of each other, and to invent and 
make things for their comfort and improve- 
ment. 

We cannot suppose that the birds in build- 
ing their nests, or the bees in making their 
hives, learn first how to do it, and then plan 
and calculate and reason about it, as men do 
when they build a house, a church, a ship, or a 
bridge. 

We cannot believe that they have such won- 
derful wisdom, design, contrivance, and skill. 

Nat. Theology. 15 



226 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



It is instinct w»hich directs them ; and in this 
way, God shows us his great wisdom and 
power and goodness. For he made the first 
butterfly with an instinct to lay its eggs on the 
proper leaf; and the caterpillar to eat this 
leaf, and to hang just at the right time from 
the silk button ; and the chrysalis to come out 
from the skin of the caterpillar, and . hang also 
from the silk button ; and at last, the butterfly 
to come out from its case, which it has to strive 
very hard to $o, and stretch its wings, and seek 
its food, and lay its eggs before it dies. 

How wonderful that these instincts thus go 
from the old butterfly to the young ones, and 
so on for hundreds and thousands of years. 

Think of all the beasts and birds and fisfees 
and insects that are now living, and that have 
ever lived — how many millions and millions 
and millions of them there have been. They 
have all had their peculiar instincts, directing 
them in different ways to do the different 
things that were necessary for their safety and 
comfort, and for that of their young. 

How these instincts are given to animals, 
and made to act with so much certainty and 
accuracy ; how they are made to go from the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY . 227 

old to their young, and from these to their 
young again, and so on, we cannot understand 
or explain. 

God alone knows how it is done, for he does 
it. And it is, my son, even a more striking 
proof of his design, contrivance, and skill, than 
the wonderful way in which he has made the 
different parts of the bodies of animals and put 
them together. 

You told me, some time ago, that you should 
think it would be very wonderful indeed if a 
man could make a watch so that the wheels 
should move, and move in such a way as to 
have another watch come out from it, as a 
chicken does from an egg, and another watch 
from this, and so on, and so on. 

But suppose a man, besides this, could make 
the first watch so that it could keep going of 
itself for one year, and then tumble all to pieces ; 
but just before it tumbled to pieces it should 
move its wheels, as if by instinct, and make 
another watch like itself, to go as it had done ; 
and at the end of a year this watch make an- 
other watch, and then tumble to pieces, and 
so on, and so on ; what would you think of 
this? 



228 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. I should think, mother, that the design, 
contrivance, and skill of the man was so great, 
that if I did not see the watches I could hardly 
believe any thing about it. 

M. How much greater design, contrivance, 
and skill are seen in the instincts of butterflies 
and of other animals; so that here is another 
kind of proof, different from any that we have 
had before, of the existence, wisdom, power, 
and goodness of God. 

R. I shall think of it, mother, when I see a 
bird building its nest, or the caterpillar spinning 
its threads. 

M. I hope you will, my son, and thus, as you 
look around you, see God in all things ; in the 
little ant beneath your feet, as well as in the 
larger animals ; in their wonderful instincts, as 
well as in their curious bodies and motions ; in 
the flowers and plants and trees ; in the gentle 
breeze, and in the roaring storm ; in the glori- 
ous sun by day, and in the beautiful moon and 
stars by night. 

R. Before we stop talking, mother, I wish 
to ask you one question. 

M. Do, my son ; you kno w I am always ready 
to answer your inquiries. 



o:n jnatural theolog-i*. 229 

R. Do not animals sometimes think before- 
hand how they will do certain things, and why 
they will do them ? 

M. Yes, Robert, I cannot but think so. The] 
often do things which cannot be explained b, 
mere instinct. 

R. Then they are like us, mother. 

M. Yes, my son, in some few things ; but 
after all, what a vast difference there is be- 
tween them and us. In one thing, you know, 
we are entirely different from them. They do 
not know, neither can they be taught, the least 
possible thing about God and the soul and a 
future world after death. They have no ideas 
or feelings with regard to what is right and 
wrong; and when they reason at all, which 
but very few of them do, in but very few in- 
stances, they reason only about little things, 
and there stop. Their reason does not seem 
to improve, and those who seem the wisest of 
them know but very little indeed, except what 
they know and do by instinct. 

R. Mother, I do not understand exactly what 
reason is. Will you please to explain it to 
me? 

M. It would take me a long while, Robert, 



230 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



to tell you all about it, but I will tell you 
enough to show you how very different reason 
is from instinct. 

If something is coming very suddenly tow- 
ards your eyes, you shut them ; but you do not 
think that you will do this, or why you will do 
it. You do it from instinct, or as we say, 
instinctively. 




I have read a story of a lady who was one 
day walking alone in a country where tigers 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



231 



live. One of these terrible animals suddenly 
appeared and began to approach her. What 
could she do to defend herself? In an instant 
she thought of one thing that might possibly 
drive the tiger away. She had a parasol in 
her hand; she opened it suddenly towards 
the tiger, and he was so frightened by it that 
he immediately turned about and ran off into 
the woods. 

The lady perceived the great danger she was 
in ; she thought how she might prevent the tiger 
from attacking her; she thought opening the 
parasol suddenly towards him might do this, and 
she opened the parasol for this very purpose. 

In doing this, she reasoned. She had seen 
little children perhaps, or some kinds of ani- 
mals, startled by having something come very 
suddenly towards them. She might have been 
alarmed herself some time or other in this way. # 
She recollected it, and thought that in the 
same way the tiger might be alarmed by the 
opening of her parasol. 

It was reason, and not instinct, that led her 
to act so wisely. 

The caterpillar throws off its old skin ex- 
actly at the right time, not because it thinks 



232 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



that it will have a new and better one, or that it 
must do this several times, that at last it may 
be prepared to hang from the silk button and 
become a chrysalis, and afterwards a beautiful 
butterfly. It knows nothing about these won- 
derful changes. How can it? It never passed 
through them before, or saw any other cater- 
pillar pass through them, nor has it ever been 
taught about them by any other insect. What 
the caterpillar does, it does without thinking of 
the different ways in which it must act, or of 
the purpose for which it must act. It acts en- 
tirely from instinct. 

When your uncle John takes off his thick 
woollen coat in the spring, as the weather be- 
gins to be quite warm, and lays it away in his 
trunk and puts on a thinner one, he does this 
not from instinct, but from reason. 

He has learned, from having done so before, 
that it is best for his comfort and health ; he 
thinks that the cold weather is passed, and that 
the summer is coming on, and that he shall not 
need his thick, warm coat again till the autunm, 
unless it may be now and then on a cool day. 
What he does he does on purpose, and can tell 
you why he does it. He does it from reason. 



ON NATURAL THEOL OG-Y. 



233 



Instinct is that something which God gives 
to animals, so that it is as much a part of them 
as their life is, which directs them to do certain 
things to preserve their lives, and to take care 
of themselves and of their young, and to con- 
tinue their different kinds year after year ; and 
to do all this certainly and regularly without 
having been taught it, and with as much skill 
the first time as the second, third, fourth, or 
any time afterwards, and without thinking why 
it is done. 

Reason is also the gift of God. It is his 
peculiar gift to man. It is that which makes 
man so very different from beasts, birds, fishes, 
and insects. 

You see reason beginning to show itself in a 
very young child. How soon the child seems 
to learn both how and why to do certain things. 
It soon understands also, how and why other 
persons do certain things. It early shows de- 
sign in what it does, and sometimes consider- 
able contrivance and skill. 

"When it learns to talk, how soon it begins to 
inquire how things are made, and why things 
are made ; how things are done, and why thev 
are done. 



234 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



The child very early understands why it 
ought to do what is right, and not to do what is 
wrong ; and how it ought to conduct towards 
its parents, and do to others as it would have 
others do to it. It continues to improve, and 
understands how and why it must believe that 
there is a God who made all beings and things, 
and how and why it must love, obey, and serve 
him, that its soul may be prepared, after its 
body is dead, to go to heaven and be holy and 
happy there for ever. It is reason that enables 
the child to do all this. 

But if I should go on to tell you all the 
things which reason enables children and men 
to do, I might spend years in telling you. 

Whenever we think how any thing was made, 
or why it was mad§, we reason. Whenever 
we think how a thing might be done, and why 
it would be well to have it done, we reason. 
Whenever we think why we ought to conduct 
in a certain way, so as to do right, or not to 
conduct in a certain way, so as not to do wrong, 
we reason. Whenever we think how or why 
any thing will make us and others more wise, 
or good, or happy, or less so, we reason. 

And because our minds, or souls, are able to 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. 



235 



do all this. we say they have reason, and that 
reason enables them to do it. 

E. Mother, how glad I am that I have 
reason. 

M. That you may well be, my son. When 
you see the little birds and insects doing many 
curious things, the wonderful instincts which 
direct them to do these things show you that 
there is a God. But how much more striking 
is the proof that there is a God, when you see 
children and grown people doing those things 
which are so far, far above instinct, and which 
reason alone enables them to do. 

How did man get this wonderful power of 
his soul? Whence came his soul itself? How 
came it to be united to his body ? 

You have seen how our bodies alone, from 
the design, contrivance, and skill with which 
they are made, and their different parts put 
together and kept in order, prove that there is 
a God. How much more, then, do our souls 
prove this ; with powers so superior to those 
of the body, with reason so superior to the in- 
stincts of the brutes, with reason, the peculiar 
gift of God to man, and which makes man 
somewhat like God. 



236 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



How thankful, my son, should you be to God 
for giving you reason ; and how careful should 
you be so to use your reason that you may con- 
tinue to improve in knowledge and goodness, 
that you may make others and yourself wiser, 
better, and happier, that you may become more 
and more like God, and thus be prepared tc 
know more of him in heaven, and to be happy 
in loving and serving him for ever. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



237 



DIALOGUE XVII. 

Robert. Mother, uncle John has made me a 
new bat to play ball with, out of a hard piece 
of wood, and it is the best bat that I ever had. 

Mother. Suppose he had made it a foot 
longer, how would you like it then ? 

R. It would not do for me, mother. I should 
think then, that uncle John had made it for 
himself. 

M. Yes, your uncle John needs a longer bat 
to play ball with than you do, and a little boy 
would need a shorter bat, so that the bat must 
be suited to the height of the person. This we 
call proportion. And if your bat just suits your 
height, we say that the proportion between the 
length of the bat and the height of your body 
is right. Do you not think your uncle John 
thought of this proportion when he made your 
bat ? 

R. I am sure he did, mother; for before he 
cut it off, he asked me several times to take hold 



238 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



of it at the right place and see how long it 
ought to be. 

M. He had a design, then, in making it of 
just the length that he did. Do you suppose 
that the man who made the chairs in this room 
had a design in making them just as high as 
they are ? 

R. Certainly he had, mother. He made 
them for men and women to sit on, and that 
small, low chair he made for a little boy or 
girl to sit on. 

M. Did you ever think, my son, how our 
houses and furniture, and all the different kinds 
of things which we use to work with, are pro- 
portioned to the size of men and women, and 
to the use which we make of them ? 

R. I never did before, mother, but now that 
you have told me I see that it is so. 

M. If you should see a house with doors only 
half as high and wide as the doors of our house, 
and windows half as large, and go inside and 
find every thing in the same proportion — all 
the tables and chairs and beds and things to 
be used just half the size of ours — what would 
you think ? 

R. I should think the house, and all the 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 239 

things in it, were made for people only half as 
large and tall as you and uncle John are. 

M. Yes; and that would certainly appear 
to be the design of the person who contrived 
the house and had it built, and the things made 
and put into it. 

Proportion, then, between the different parts 
of a thing, or between one thing and others, is 
one way in which we see proofs of design, con- 
trivance, and skill. 

R. Mother, I have just thought, if my arms 
were as long as uncle John's, or his arms as 
short as mine, how inconvenient it would be. 

M. True, my son : and only think how all the 
parts of your body are not only suited, but ex- 
actly proportioned to each other. 

How clumsy a head would be two or three 
times larger than the one you now have. It 
would require stronger muscles to move it 
about, and a stronger neck to support it. And 
if your legs were twice as long as they are, 
how awkward many of your motions would be, 
and how hard it would be for you to bend down 
and stoop and pick up things. Your arms 
then would have to be longer to have the right 
proportion, and indeed all the parts of your 



240 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



body would have to be larger, so as to have 
one suited to the other. 

Think too of the proportion between our 
bodies and the things and beings around us. 

R. I do not exactly understand you, mother. 

M. I will explain to you what I mean. Sup 
pose our cows were two or three times taller 
than they are. would it not be very inconven- 
ient? 

R. It would be, indeed. I do not see how 
they could be milked. 

M. Well, Robert, there is a suitable propor- 
tion between them and the size of men and 
women. 

And so it is with the horse, that animal 
which is of the greatest use to man. If horses 
were two of three times taller than they are, 
it would be almost impossible to ride on horse- 
back ; and if we used them in carts and wag- 
ons, and chaises and stages, these would have 
to be made larger and higher and very differ- 
ently from what they are now. What would 
the farmer do when he ploughed his field ? It 
would give him a great deal of trouble. 

R. And so it would the hostler, mother, to 
take care of them; 

• 



UN NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



241 



M. And if our clogs and cats were as big 
as horses and cows, we could not let them 
come into our houses. 

R. And besides, mother, how could the cats 
catch rats and mice ? 

M. You see, my son, there is a proportion 
between the size of man, and that of the ani- 
mals which are intended for his use. And you 
will see a similar proportion too, between the 
different kinds of animals, of beasts, of birds, 
of fishes, of insects, and of plants. 

A great many animals live on grass and 
plants of different kinds, and their shape and 
size and height are such, and their head and 
body and limbs so proportioned, that they can 
get their food without difficulty. 

Other animals prey upon different kinds of 
animals for food, and their size, and their 
strength, and their means of securing their 
prey, are proportioned to this object. If mice 
were obliged to catch cats for food, or the deer 
to catch the lion, or flies to catch spiders, or 
insects to catch the birds, they would soon 
starve. 

How easily, too, all our food is obtained. 
We eat the flesh of animals, and we have the 

Nat. Theol'-gy. 1 G 



242 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



knowledge and the skill necessary to provide 
this kind of food, although we are not so strong 
as many of the animals which we use for food. 
The proportion here, is not between our size 
and theirs, or between our strength and theirs, 
but between our knowledge and contrivance 
and skill, and theirs. In these respects, we 
are greatly their superiors ; and if it were not 
so, there are many of them which we could not 
procure for food. 

We eat fruit, too, and vegetables, and our 
great article of food, bread, is procured from 
grain. How well adapted the size of vegeta- 
bles is to our size. If they were much small- 
er, or if they were a great deal larger, it would 
be difficult to cultivate them, and to gather 
them in at the proper season, and take care of 
them. 

If potatoes were no larger than peas, and 
had to be planted and hoed as they now are, 
it would be very fatiguing indeed to do it, and 
they would hardly be worth raising. And if 
wheat and rye and oats grew five or six feet 
high, and with a larger stalk, men would not 
be tall enough to reap them, or at any rate, it 
would be a very difficult and troublesome task. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 243 

Most of the pleasantest and most common fruits 
can be gathered with the hand, and held in it 
while we are eating them. There is a propor- 
tion between them and our hands. 

R. Yes, mother; and I was thinking how 
awkward and inconvenient it would be, if ap- 
ples and pears were as large as pumpkins. 

M. There is a proper proportion also, be- 
tween the size of animals and that of their 
young. If the little birds that come out of the 
eggs were as large as the old ones, or if they 
grew much faster than they do, the nest would 
not be large enough for them, and they would 
require so much food that it would be very dif- 
ficult for the old ones to take care of them. 

R. Mother, I have just thought about anoth- 
er instinct that birds must have. 

M. What is that, my son? ' 

R. That which directs them to make their 
nests of the right proportion for the size of 
their eggs, and of the little birds which are to 
come out of them. 

M. Yes, Robert, that is a striking instance 
of right proportion, and of a curious instinct 
at the same time. 

You see a similar instance of proportion 



244 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and of instinct in the sizes and accommoda- 
tions of all the nests and hives and places 
which animals prepare for their own comfort, 
and that of their young. 

Who gave them this nice instinct of propor- 
tion? How happens it to be so certain, so 
regular, and so universal? Does chance pro- 
duce exact and suitable proportions ? Suppose 
your uncle John should write a letter to a 
tailor who never saw him, to have a suit of 
clothes made, and should not send any meas- 
ure, and the tailor should not know whether he 
was a tall or a short man, a large or a small 
one. The clothes might possibly chance to 
fit and be proportioned to your uncle John's 
size and shape, but it would be a mere chance. 
The tailor might try a thousand times before 
lie would make the suit of clothes to fit ex- 
actly. 

But suppose he had to make suits in the 
same way, without any measure, for a thousand 
men ; how many then would their clothes ex- 
actly fit ? It would be a wonder if the propor- 
tion was right, even in one instance. 

But millions of birds and insects have made 
their nests and hives of the right proportion, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



245 



for their own comfort and that of their eggs 

Co 

and young, without taking any measure before- 
hand, or making any calculation, or indeed 
thinking at all about this proportion. 

How could they do this, unless God had 
given them the instinct of proportion ? 

This instinct proves that there is a God : 
and this and all the other instances of propor- 
tion which you see in your own body, and in 
that of animals and of plants, and in the size 
and height and shape of men and animals and 
plants, with regard to each other, all show the 
great wisdom, power, and goodness of God. 

When you make a kite or a bat, or any thing 
else, you know how much you have to think, 
and how careful you have to be to get all the 
proportions exactly right. 

And if you could see a person cutting out a 
statue from a large block of marble, and giv- 
ing it size and shape, and all the nice propor- 
tions, so as to make it look just like a human 
body, you would greatly admire the design, 
contrivance, and skill of the statuary. 

And if you could see the great church of St. 
Peter's at Rome, more than 700 feet in length 
and 500 in breadth, with its immense dome ris- 



246 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ing to the height of 400 feet, and all its beauti- 
ful and^ grand parts, both without and within, 
and the exact proportions between these parts 
and the whole building, what would you think 
of the design and contrivance of the architect 
who planned this vast temple, and of the skill 
of those who built it ? 

But look at what God has wrought. What 
beautiful proportions in the stem, the branches, 
the leaves, the buds, the flowers of the rose- 
bush; in the head, the body, the wings, the 
feathers, the feet of birds; in the head, the 
horns, the neck, the body, and the limbs of the 
deer ; and above all, in the size and shape, 
and parts of the human frame. What useful 
proportions too in ourselves, and in all the be- 
ings and things with which we are acquainted. 
What beautiful and grand proportions in the 
hills and valleys, and plains and rivers, and 
trees and plants, that fill the landscapes which 
are spread around us. And astronomy would 
show you still more magnificent and sublime 
proportions between this earth on which we 
live, and that sun around which it revolves, and 
the moon and planets, and the hosts of stars — ■ 
proportions of shape and size and weight and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



247 



distance and attraction, which would fill you 
with admiration and awe. 

God is the great statuary who has moulded 
and formed all the things and beings which 
you see. 

God is the great architect who has built this 
world, and all worlds. 

God has made all those useful and beautiful 
and grand proportions of which this world and 
all worlds are full. 

Whenever you admire or Wonder at these 
proportions, think of the Author of them. 
Think of his wisdom and power, which could 
design and make them. This wisdom and 
power are infinite. Think of his goodness, 
which has thus furnished you with a constant 
source of the purest enjoyment, in looking at 
the thousand beautiful and grand objects which 
surround you. 

In this way, every thing that is lovely will 
have a new loveliness, and every thing that is 
grand a new grandeur, because you will feel 
that they were thus made to promote our hap- 
piness by our Father who is in heaven. 



248 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



DIALOGUE XVIII. 

Mother. I told you yesterday, Robert, some- 
thing about the proportions between ourselves 
and the different beings and things which sur- 
round us. There is another subject something 
like this, which also shows us the great wis- 
dom, power, and goodness of God. 

Robert. Will you be so good, mother, as to 
explain it to me. 

M. I will endeavor to do it. 

You know all animals breathe, and if they 
did not they could not live. The air which 
they draw in goes to the lungs — that part of 
the body by which we breathe— and there it 
meets the blood, which also goes to the lungs 
from the heart. The air causes some change 
in the blood, which, after being thus changed, 
goes back again to the heart, and is sent to all 
parts of the body. If the blood did not receive 
this change from the air, it would not nourish 
and give life to all the parts of the body, as it 
does, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOOY. 



249 



The heart and the lungs are very curiously 
made, and so are the arteries, which, like tubes, 
carry the blood all over the body from the 
heart : and the veins, which, like tubes also, 
carry it back again. You know, when the 
heart ceases to beat, and the lungs to breathe, 
a person dies. 

R. Do explain to me. mother, how the heart 
and lungs are made, as you did about the 
muscles and nerves. 

M. I intend to do it at some future time, my 
son, and to show you all the pictures which 
are necessary to your understanding it. 

At present it will be enough for you to 
know that the lungs are made on purpose to 
breathe with, and that the heart is made on 
purpose to send the blood to the lungs, and 
after the blood has received its change there, 
to send it throughout the whole body. 

The lungs would be of no use without the 
heart, nor the heart without the lungs, and 
neither would be of any use, if there were no 
air for the lungs to breathe, or no blood to be 
prepared by the air, to give nourishment and 
life to the whole body. 

The air is just what is needed for the lungs 



250 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



to breathe, and the lungs are made exactly to 
breathe the air. 

Here is another striking instance of design, 
contrivance, and skill, in thus making one 
thing suit another, which is called adaptation. 

R. Do fishes breathe, mother ? 

M. They do, my son. They breathe with 
their gills. 

R. But how can they breathe air, when they 
are under the water ? 

M. The water is drawn in at the mouth of 
the fish, and sent to the gills, where a certain 
portion of air which is in the water changes 
the blood, which is also sent to the gills from 
the heart. 

R. The gills then, mother, are the lungs of 
fishes. 

M. They are so, my son ; and the leaves of 
trees and plants are their lungs, by which they 
derive from the air something which is neces- 
sary for their growth and life. Plants as well 
as animals cannot live without air. 

R. Have little insects lungs, mother ? 

M. They have not, my son, any lungs which 
are like those of men, beasts, birds, or fishes. 
But there are tubes or windpipes, in some in- 



OR NATURAL THEuLOLiT. 2&1 

sects, standing out from different parts of their 
body, through which they breathe. In others, 
as is the case in many caterpillars, there are 
small holes along the sides, through which the 
air passes. 

E. Well, there is a plenty of air, mother, for 
all the animals and plants. 

M. There is so, Robert. The earth, which 
you know is a great ball, is entirely surrounded 
with air ; and all this air is called the atmos- 
phere. It has weight: and the whole atmos- 
phere presses on the surface of the earth with 
as much force as water would, if it were all 
round the earth to the height of thirty-four 
feet. 

R. How much heavier is water than air, 
mother ? 

M. About eight hundred times. But there 
are some other things about the air, that show 
how wonderfully it is adapted to certain parts 
of our body, which I wish to explain to you. 

You know we hear sounds through the ear. 
Inside of the ear there is a thin skin, called 
the drum of the ear, with four little bones near 
it, so made that when the drum of the ear 
vibrates, all the bores are put in motion. 



252 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



R. Mother, what does vibrate mean ? 

M. See, I am going to stick my penknife 
a little way into this piece of wood, so that it 
will stand up straight. Now, I will strike the 
top of the knife with my finger. 

You see how the knife moves quickly back 
and forth. It vibrates. 

When you strike the top of a drum it vi- 
brates, and so does the little drum of the ear. 

R. But what strikes the drum of the ear, 
mother ? 

M. The air. When the clapper of a bell 
strikes against the side of it, the bell has a 
great many quick vibrations. These vibra- 
tions of the bell make vibrations in -the air 
around it, and these make other vibrations, 
and these still wider ones ; just as a stone 
thrown into smooth water puts the water in 
motion and makes a little circle round it, and 
this circle makes a larger one, and this one 
still larger, till the water is put in motion for 
a great distance, and strikes against the little 
plant that is growing in the water near the 
opposite shore and puts it in motion. 

So the vibrations of the air which the vibra- 
tions of the bell cause, at last strike against 



ON NATURAL THEOLOllT 



253 



the drum of the ear and put it in motion, and 
it vibrates. 

This vibration of the drum of the ear makes 
the four little bones vibrate. 

The vibration of these bones puts a watery 
fluid in motion, which is in a hollow place 
back of the drum of the ear. 

The vibrations of the watery fluid somehow 
or other affect the end of a nerve, and this 
nerve, which goes to the brain, carries to it the 
sensation of sound, and we hear. 

R. If you had not told me, mother, I am sure 
I should not have thought that there were so 
many curious parts in my ear, and that so much 
must be done before I can hear a single sound. 

M. TVell, my son, what will the Atheist say 
to all that I have told you about breathing 
and hearing ? 

Did the air happen to have just such parts, 
that if it can be made to meet the blood which 
flows through our whole body, it will cause 
just that change in the blood which is abso- 
lutely necessary to nourish the body and keep 
it alive ? 

And did the heart happen to come together 
just so as to form a curious kind of machine, 



254 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and every time that the blood is brought back 
to it by the veins, to send it to the lungs to 
meet the air ; and after it comes back again 
changed by the air, to send it all over the 
body, to nourish it and keep it alive ? 

And did the heart happen to be so powerful 
a machine, that it will keep going and never 
get out of order for seventy or eighty years, 
when a person lives so long ; and do this too, 
although it works very hard all the while, 
day and night ? 

For the heart contracts, and so forces the 
blood out of it four thousand five hundred 
times in one hour. You know you can feel it 
beat, every time that it contracts. 

All the blood that is in the body of a grown 
person of common size weighs about thirty- 
three pounds, and all this passes through the 
heart, and is sent all over the body nearly 
twenty-three times in one hour, or once in a 
little more than every two minutes and a half. 
Did chance make this wonderful heart? 

Then the lungs happened to be just suited 
both to the heart and to the air, so as to bring 
the air and the blood together in just the prop- 
er quantity, and just at the right time, and 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



255 



just often enough. It would not do for the 
lungs to go too fast for the heart, nor the 
heart too fast for the lungs. To keep the 
body in good health, their motions must be 
proportioned to each other. 

And did chance make all those parts of the 
heart, the lungs, and the air, and make them 
all with the right proportions, and put each 
together so as to act without any irregularity 
and confusion, and set and keep them in mo- 
tion so as to go exactly right, and thus adapt 
them to each other ? 

R. Mother, I think again of the text of 
scripture which you repeated to me, 

"The fool hath said in his heart, There is 
no God." 

M. I am sure, my son, that you will never 
be guilty of such folly, after all the proofs 
which I have given you of the being, the wis- 
dom, the power, and the goodness of God. 
And if, when you grow up, you meet with any 
one so foolish and wicked as to doubt whether 
there is a God, you will be able to give him 
the proofs that there is indeed a great and 
good Being who made him, and all other 
beings and things; and perhaps you may be 



256 THE YOUTH'S BOOK 

able to convince him of this, and with the bless- 
ing of God, help to make him a better and a 
happier man. 

R. I am sure, mother, I will try to do so, if 
I ever meet with such a person. 

M. I have some other things to tell you 
about the air, Robert, which will still further 
show you how admirably it is adapted to the 
convenience and comfort of man. 

R. There seems, mother, to be as much 
that is curious and wonderful about the adap- 
tation of things to each other, as there is about 
what you told me of their proportion to each 
other. 

M. There is indeed, and the air is one strik- 
ing instance of it. 

If it were not for the air, we could not see 
different objects as well as we do. 

R. Why not, mother? Is it not the sun 
which gives us light? I do not see how the 
air can make any difference in that light. 

M. Did you ever take a looking-glass, Rob- 
ert, and hold it so that the sun can shine upon 
it, and then turn it so that the shining of the 
sun upon it may be cast on the wall of the 
room ? 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



257 



R. I have, mother, and you know you can 
make the bright spot move about all sorts of 
ways on the wall. 

M. Well, we say that the looking-glass re 
fleets the light of the sun which shines upon it 
on the wall. 

Now, suppose there is a room shut up so 
tight that it is quite dark in all parts of it, 
except some very little streams of light, that 
• come through a few holes in the window-shut- 
ter, as big as the head of a pin. 

That would not give light enough for you to 
see to do any thing in the room. 

Suppose you could place several looking- 
glasses so as to reflect these streams of light- 
in different directions, and then other looking- 
glasses, to reflect again the light coming from 
the first, and then still more to keep reflecting 
the light in all possible ways : this would scat- 
ter the light so completely into all parts of the 
room, and upon all the things in it, that you 
could see quite well. 

The air does something exactly like this. It 
is made up of millions and millions of little 
particles, smaller, a great deal smaller than 
*,he point of a pin, which reflect the light 

JftU Theolo-V 1 7 



258 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



from one to another in all possible ways, and 
on all the things that we see, and throughout 
all places however large. If the air had not 
this power of reflecting light, we could see 
nothing only those things on which the sun 
shines directly ; all other things and places 
would be in the dark. 

All the things too which we did see would 
be bright, and many of them dazzling, in the 
midst of dark objects around them. How dif- 
ferent this would be from the soft and pleas- 
ant light which is now reflected by the air 
upon all those objects on which the sun does 
not shine directly. What beautiful colors the 
landscape has, from this mixture of brighter 
and softer light. So that the air is adapted, 
you see, not only to scatter light enough in all 
directions to enable us to do what is necessary 
to be done, but it furnishes us also with a 
constant source of enjoyment in beholding 
beautiful tints and colors and shades in all 
the objects around us. 

If I had time, I could show you how the dif- 
ferent parts of the eye are made and put to- 
gether, so as to receive the light reflected to it 
from different objects ; and to carry chis light 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



259 



on the back part of the eye, and there to form 
a most curious little picture of the things at 
which we are looking, exactly like them, only 
thousands of times smaller ; and then, some- 
how or other, to have this little picture affect 
a nerve, and this nerve affect the brain, and 
thus enable us to see. 

R. Mother, I do wish to have the different 
parts of the eye explained to me. 

M. I hope to be able to do it, my son, before 
a great while, but I cannot do it now. I will 
tell you, however, some few things more about 
seeing before we go. 

I have shown you how the air reflects the 
light in all directions, and how necessary this 
is for our convenience, and how much it con- 
tributes to our enjoyment. The air is admi- 
rably adapted to this purpose. 

But light also is most curiously made, so 
as to be reflected by the air, and received by 
the eye. You know how very small the par- 
ticles of air are that reflect the light ; and 
how small the little hole is in the front of the 
eye, that receives them ; and how small the 
little picture is, on the back part of the eye, 
which affects the nerve and the brain, and en- 



260 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ables us to see. Now the particles of light are 
proportioned to all this, and to the swiftness 
with which they move, so as to enable us 
quickly to see things even at a very great 
distance. 

Light goes at the rate of one hundred and 
ninety-five thousand miles in one second of 
time, which is faster than a cannon ball goes, 
by one million five hundred and fifty thousand 
times. 

The sun is ninety-five millions of miles from 
the earth, and yet light comes to us from the 
sun in eight minutes and thirteen seconds. 

R. Mother, I cannot think how quick light 
goes. 

M. That is true, my son, and we cannot 
think how very, very small the particles of 
light are. If they were larger than they are, 
they would injure us very much. 

R. How so, mother ? 

M. If I should toss this thimble very gently 
against your face, would it hurt you ? 

R. I do not think it would, but it would 
hurt me a good deal if you should throw it as 
hard as you could. 

M. So would even the head of a pin. if I should 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



261 



throw it as hard as I could into your eye ; and 
if it was shot from a gun, it would destroy the 
sight of your eye, and might perhaps kill 
you. Think then how small, how very, very 
very small the particles of light must be, sc 
as not to hurt the eye when they strike it 
coming as quick as they do* all the way from 
the sun ! 

If a million of the particles of light, all put 
together, were as large as a small grain of 
sand, it would be as dangerous to have them 
strike the eye, as it would be to have a quan- 
tity of sand fired straight into the eye from a 
cannon. 

Now think of all these things : how wonder- 
fully the air is made to reflect light, and the 
eye to receive the light and enable us to see. 
Think, too, how the light itself is made, with 
its very small particles, so as to be easily 
reflected by the little particles of the air, like 
so many little looking-glasses. Think with 
what amazing quickness light comes from dis- 
tant objects, so as to give us the sight of them 
without any pain or injury, because its parti- 
cles are so small that we cannot think how 
small they are! 



262 



THE YOUTHS BOOK 



What a wonderful adaptation of different 
tilings to each other ! 

What a wonderful effect is produced by this 
adaptation — our seeing and knowing not only 
what is near us, but objects also at a great dis- 
tance. We can see. the sun, which is ninety-five 
million miles from the earth ; and we can see 
a fixed star — another sun for other worlds — 
which is more than 5,000,000,000,000 miles from 
the earth. 

In all this, how wonderfully God shows us 
his infinite power and wisdom, and his great 
goodness too, in doing it all for the conven- 
ience and comfort of man. 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



263 



CONCLUSION. 

Mrs. Stanhope thought somewhat of ex- 
plaining to Robert about the sun and earth, 
and moon and stars, and of thus showing, him 
the wonderful power of God, as well as his 
great wisdom and goodness, in the size and 
motions of the heavenly bodies. 

But she thought, on the whole, that it would 
be better to wait till he grew a little older, 
when he would be able to understand it much 
better. 

She expected too, the next day, to ride with 
him to his aunt's, where she intended to stay 
two or three weeks; so she did not talk with 
Robert any more at that time about the wis- 
dom, power, and goodness of God, as shown to 
us in the beings and things which he has made, 
except that in the evening, just before he went 
to bed, she had the following short conversa- 
tion with him. 

Mother. I hope, my son, that you will remeui- 



264 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



ber all tliat I have been telling you for several 
days past, to prove to you that there is a God, 
and that he is a Being of infinite power, wis- 
dom, and goodness. 

Robert. I am sure, mother, that I shall never 
forget it. It has been both so entertaining 
and instructive to me. 

M. As you gain more knowledge, Robert, of 
the different beings and things which God has 
made, you will gain also more and more proofs 
of his existence, and of his amazing power, wis- 
dom, and goodness. 

You will, if you live, pursue many studies 
and read many books in which not even the 
name of God will be mentioned, although these 
studies and these books will be full of instances 
of the most wonderful design, contrivance, and 
skill, and of the most surprising power, wisdom, 
and goodness of God. 

It is sad to see that it is so, and that men 
love so little to think and to converse and to 
write about God, that great and good Being 
who made us, and who made so many things 
for our improvement and happiness, and who 
wishes so much that we should all love and 
obey him, and be prepared, when we die, to go 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



265 



and live with him and be happy in heaven for 
ever. 

But in all your studies, and in all your read- 
ing, I hope you will mark those things very 
particularly which show you the design, con- 
trivance, and skill, the power, wisdom, and 
goodness of God, and stop and think of him 
with reverence and awe, with gratitude and 
love. 

Let it sink deep into your soul, and form a 
part of your daily thoughts and feelings, how 
much kindness God has shown, and is still 
showing you; how many sources of comfort 
and of enjoyment he gives you; how it grieves 
him to see you think, or feel, or act wrong; 
how he loves to see you be good and do good, 
that you may go, after death, to be with him 
for ever, continually to improve in knowledge, 
in holiness, and in happiness. 

Eemember, too, with the liveliest feelings of 
thankfulness, that God has given you another 
and a brighter light, to guide you in the way 
to heaven, than that which shines upon you from 
the works of his hand, from the beings and the 
things which he has made. 

From these you may learn his amazing power 



266 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



and wisdom and goodness. But you cannot 
learn from them a great deal that it is very 
important for you to know about God and your 
soul, and whither you will go, and -what you 
will be or do after death. 

God has been very kind in giving you an- 
other and a brighter light, to guide you into 
the knowledge of these important things. 

He has given you the Bible. This holy book, 
which good men wrote just as God directed 
them to write it, tells you all that it is neces- 
sary for you to know with regard to God and 
your soul, and your existence after death. The 
more you study it, the wiser you will grow. 
The more you love and obey it, the better and 
the happier you will be. 

In the Bible we read of Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God and the only Saviour of sinners. 
We could learn nothing of this Saviour merely 
from the things which God has made. These 
show us, indeed, the power, wisdom, and good- 
ness of God, but not his great love to us, in 
giving his well-beloved Son to die for sinners 
such as we are. 

By studying ever so much the wonderful 
works of God in the natural world around us, 



ON NATURAL THEOLOG-Y. -267 

we could never find out how our sins are to be 
forgiven, or whether they could be forgiven at 
all. How thankful, then, we should be to God 
for giving us the Bible. 

While you ought to form the habit of ad- 
miring and loving God, as you notice the work- 
manship of his hands in the beings and thinga 
which he has made, you ought also to form the 
habit of daily going to your Bible, that you 
may learn more and more of Jesus Christ, and 
of the way of salvation through him. 

Unless you feel, my dear son, the need of 
looking to Christ, and of trusting in him # as 
your only Saviour from the awful punishment 
which your sins deserve, all the knowledge 
that you may gain of the works of nature, and 
all the admiration that you may feel of the 
power and wisdom and goodness of God in 
those works, will be of no use in preparing you 
for heaven. You may see in this way how 
great and good a being God is ; but his power 
and goodness both will have to be shown in 
banishing you for ever from his presence, if 
you do not come to him with heartfelt sorrow 
for your sins, imploring his forgiveness on 
account of what Christ did and suffered, and 



268 



THE YOUTH'S BOOK 



relying on this Saviour alone for acceptance 
with God. 

What a solemn thought, that you may live 
in this beautiful world which God has made, 
and see in it, and in the body which he has 
given you, so many proofs of his existence, of 
his wisdom, of his power, and of his goodness, 
and yet fail of having him for your eternal 
friend. 

Ah, my son, I should regret the very inter- 
esting conversations which we have had of 
late on Natural Theology, if I did not hope 
thqj; with the blessing of God, and the influ- 
ences of his Holy Spirit, they would lead you to 
higher views of his character, and to accept the 
rich offers of his mercy to you through Jesus 
Christ. 

Go to this Saviour, sinner, with penitence, 
humility, and faith. Trust in him with all 
your heart. Beseech God, for his sake, to give 
you the Holy Spirit, that you may do this, and 
that you may henceforth be a true disciple of 
Christ, loving and obeying the truths which he 
has given us in the Bible, imitating his exam- 
ple, and devoted to his service. 

Then a new beauty and glory will be shed 



ON NATURAL THEOLOGY. "269 

over all the works of nature which surround 
you. While you admire them as the work- 
manship of God, they will lead you to look up 
to him, not only as the great Creator of all 
things, but as the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, and, through him, the source of 
all your blessings in this life, and of endless 
happiness beyond the grave. 



Works for the Young Christian. 



ABBOTT'S YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Attractive in illustrations of Christian duty and practice. 
Steel frontispiece. 394 pp. 12nio, 

PIKE'S PERSUASIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 

Greatly blessed of the Holy Spirit in the conversion of 
souls. 438 pp. 18mo. 

PIKE'S GUIDE FOR YOUNG DISCIPLES. 

A choice compendium of truth and duty. 544 pp. 18mo. 

DODDRIDGE'S RISE AND PROGRESS. 

Its serious and prayerful perusal has led very many to 
the foot of the cross. 469 pp. 18mo. 

BUNYAN'S PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Finely illustrated. 483 pp. 18mo. 

JAMES' ANXIOUS INQUIRER. 

Eminently useful in its extended circulation. 212 pp. 
18mo. 

JAMES' CHRISTIAN PROGRESS. 

A sequel to the above, and an invaluable guide to the 
young Christian. 271 pp. 18mo. 

ADVICE TO A YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

By Rev. J. B. Waterbuey. A precious companion for 
the young pilgrim to Zion. 168 pp. 18mo. 

CONSIDERATIONS FOR YOUNG MEN; 

And WHO ARE THE HAPPY? By the same author. 
Choice volumes for youth. 

*8&!WAK'$ mm TO ACQUAINTANCE WITH COO. 

Illustrating the great truths of salvation by Christ. 173 
pp. 18mo, 

C85 82 1 



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